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The 
ART  THEATRE 


The 

ART  THEATRE 

A  Discussion  of  its  Ideals,  its  Organization  and  its 

Promise  as  a  Corrective  for  Present  Evils 

in  the  Commercial  Theatre 


By 

SHELDON  CHENET 


With  Sixteen  Photographs  of  Productions 

at  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre 

of  Detroit 


New  York 

ALFRED  A.  KNOPF 

Mcmxvii 


COPYRIGHT,  1917,  BY 
ALFRED  A.  KNOPF 

PuUUhtd  OcUbtr    191t 


rtlMTBO    IM    THE   UNITXD   STATES  Or   AMKXICA 


PREFACE 


College 
library 

FN 

C42^ 


This  book  has  grown  out  of  an  unusual  com- 
bination of  circumstances.  The  first  impulse  to- 
ward its  writing  came  when  I  was  interested,  more 
than  a  year  ago,  in  a  project  (lately  deceased) 
for  an  art  theatre  in  Berkeley.  The  problems 
arising  then  sent  me  searching  through  a  mass  of 
fugitive  material.  One  result  was  a  determina- 
tion to  prepare  "a  model  plan  for  an  art  theatre 
in  a  small  American  city."  In  the  light  of  later 
experience  I  am  duly  thankful  that  I  did  not  com- 
plete the  plan  with  my  then  purely  theoretical 
knowledge. 

Instead  I  went  to  Detroit,  where  I  saw  from 
the  inside  the  inauguration  of  activities  at  the 
Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre,  and  had  to  do,  in  a 
subordinate  capacity,  with  all  but  one  of  the 
subsequent  productions.  Last  winter,  as  partial 
preparation  for  editing  the  newly  founded  Thea- 
tre Arts  Magazine,  I  visited  most  of  the  progres- 
sive producing  groups  and  little  theatres  of  the 
East  and  Middle  West,  thus  finding  opportunity 


1163492 


Preface 

for  comparison  and  study  of  practically  all  the 
important  manifestations  of  the  new  dramatic 
spirit  in  this  country. 

In  spite  of  the  indefiniteness  of  aim  in  such 
theatres,  and  the  patent  instability  of  their  organ- 
ization, I  became  convinced  that  in  their  activities 
lay  the  only  real  promise  of  a  better  dramatic  art 
in  this  country.  Because  their  roots  were  in  na- 
tive soil,  I  felt  that  here  were  beginnings  of  true 
community  theatres — which  collectively  would  be 
our  ultimate  national  theatre.  And  because  they 
were  in  the  hands  of  artists,  who,  if  immature  and 
unsteady,  were  still  sincere  and  forward-looking, 
these  playhouses  seemed  clearly  the  forerunners 
of  an  American  art  theatre. 

Their  greatest  fault  was  to  be  found  in  con- 
fusion of  ideals  and  lack  of  organization  and 
defined  purpose.  Each  group  was  working 
blindly,  without  profiting  by  the  mistakes  of 
others,  and  without  a  definite  basis  for  under- 
standing the  movement  in  its  broader  aspects. 
My  first  hope  in  this  book  is  that  it  may  provide 
accurate  data  about  the  most  successful  little 
theatres  and  art  theatres;  and  that  in  its  recon- 
sideration of  the  ideals  and  aims  of  the  move- 
ment, it  may  bring  artists  to  a  clearer  conception 
of  their  creative  duty — and  perhaps  inspire  some 
with  new  enthusiasm  and  determination.  Inci- 
6 


Preface 

dentally  I  wish  the  volume  to  provide  an  account 
and  analysis  of  the  achievement  of  the  Arts  and 
Crafts  Theatre  in  Detroit  during  its  first  season 
— an  achievement  important  enough  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  insurgent  movement  to  warrant  a 
permanent  record. 

My  point  of  view  differs  from  that  of  some 
other  writers  about  little  theatres,  in  that  I  con- 
sider them  important  only  as  steps  toward  some- 
thing better.  In  all  the  excitement  about  little 
theatres  we  are  in  danger  of  losing  sight  of  the 
higher  ideal — the  art  theatre.  I  have  tried  to 
keep  that  ultimate  ideal  constantly  in  mind. 

I  am  aware  that  my  arraignment  of  the  busi- 
ness theatre  is  too  sweeping  to  be  universally  just. 
I  know  that  there  are  exceptions  to  the  rule  of 
cut-throat  business  methods  and  art-blindness  in 
the  commercial  theatre — that  there  are  still  actors 
who  retain  a  dignified  conception  of  their  pro- 
fession, and  artists  who  have  not  prostituted  their 
talents  to  commerce.  But  continued  association 
with  the  theatre  only  strengthens  my  conviction 
that  the  arraignment  is  substantially  true  and  just. 

While  this  book  is  much  more  the  result  of 
independent  thought  and  experience  than  was  an 
earlier  one,  in  which  I  tried  to  sum  up  modern 
tendencies  in  the  theatre,  I  am  still  indebted  to 
the  writings  of  Huntly  Carter,  Gordon  Craig  and 

7 


Preface 

H.  K.  Moderwell.  I  owe  thanks  also  to  Maurice 
Browne,  Sam  Hume  and  other  theatre  artists  with 
whom  I  have  talked  over  art  theatre  problems 
personally.  Mr.  Eric  T.  Clarke  has  put  me  un- 
der obligation  for  many  suggestions  in  connec- 
tion with  the  chapter  on  Organization  and  Man- 
agement ;  and  to  William  F.  Gable  I  express  cor- 
dial thanks  for  personal  encouragement  and  in- 
spiration. 

Small  portions  of  the  material  here  presented 
have  appeared  in  the  pages  of  Theatre  Arts  Maga- 
zine; but  the  book  is  substantially  new — written 
almost  entirely  during  the  summer  of  1917. 

S.  C. 


CONTENTS 


Preface  5 


Chapter  I     Present  Conditions  in  the  American 
Theatre  13 

Inside  and  outside  the  commercial  theatre  —  The  business 
theatre  and  profits  —  The  immature  little  theatre  movement  —  First 
steps  toward  an  art  theatre  —  How  the  American  theatre  became 
commercialized  —  Effects  upon  playwriting,  acting  and  stage- 
craft —  Need  for  a  new  theatre  —  The  great  problem :  How  to 
professionalise  the  insiu-gent  groups  while  preserving  the  amateur 
spirit 

Chapter  II    The  Coming  of  the  Art  Theatre  32 

The  American  problem  in  the  light  of  Europe's  theatres  of 
thirty  years  ago  —  The  Theatre  Libre  movement  —  Its  service  in 
ridding  the  theatre  of  artificiality  and  traditional  stupidity  —  Its 
shortcomings  —  Beginnings  of  the  art  theatre  movement  —  Gordon 
Craig  —  Adolphe  Appia  —  The  Moscow  Art  Theatre  —  Its  lessons 
for  American  progressives  —  The  Munich  Art  Theatre  —  Max 
Reinhardt's  Deutsches  Theater  —  The  Abbey  Theatre  —  Effects 
of  the  art  theatre  movement  on  the  Eiu-opean  theatrical  situation 
—  Why  America  has  no  professional  art  theatre  —  The  New 
Theatre  failure  —  America's  first  steps  toward  the  art  theatre 
type 

Chapter  III     Ideals  of  the  Art  Theatre  56 

The  distinguishing  mark  of  art  theatre  production  —  Its  "art 
value" —  The  synthetic  ideal  —  Appia's  "inner  unity" —  Craig's 
synthesis  of  movement,  light,  colour  and  sound  —  Stylization  — 
Undiscovered  arts  of  the  theatre  —  The  experimental  ideal  —  The 
ideal  of  sound  management  —  The  ideal  of  intimacy  —  Its  mis- 
taken aspects  —  America's  progress  toward  art  theatre  ideals 

Chapter  IV    The  Artist-Director  74 

Enlightened  artist-directors  o\u-  first  need  —  Craig's  ideal  artist 
of  the  theatre  —  Huntly  Carter's  ideal  of  group-direction  —  The 
practical    figure  —  The    artist-director    a    modern    creation  —  The 


Contents 

German  regisseur  —  Sam  Hxmie  as  an  American  example  —  His 
qualifications  and  ideals  as  typical  of  the  artist-director  — 
Maurice  Browne  as  example  —  His  methods  and  ideals 

Chapter  V    The  Question  of  Acting  and  Actors  96 

Low  state  of  American  acting  —  Beauty  of  speech  —  Rhythm  of 
movement  —  Group  action  and  pictorial  composition  —  How  art 
theatre  acting  may  differ  from  commercial  acting  —  The  dis- 
credited star  system  —  The  curse  of  personality  —  Must  we  import 
actors  for  our  art  theatres  ?  —  The  little  theatres  and  amateur 
acting  —  Advantages  in  use  of  amateiu-s  —  Disadvantages  —  Pro- 
fessionalizing amateurs  —  The  amateurs  of  Moscow  and  Dublin  — 
The  actor's  estate  under  the  art  theatre 

Chapter  VI    The  Question  of  Plays  124 

The  art  theatre  play  and  the  journalistic  drama  of  the  com- 
mercial theatre  —  The  "advanced"  ideal  vs.  "pleasing  the  public" 

—  Sam  Hume's  theory  of  meeting  the  public  half-way  —  Analysis 
of  plays  at  the  Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre  —  Mavu-ice  Browne  and 
the  no-compromise  attitude  —  Relation  between  Chicago  Little 
Theatre's  plays  and  its  financial  troubles  —  Catholic  choice  of 
plays  necessary  —  The  classics  —  Poetic  and  realistic  —  Native  and 
foreign  —  Encouraging  native  writers  —  The  repertory  system 

Chapter  VII    The  Question  of  Stage  Settings  144 

Stage  decoration  and  the  synthetic  ideal  —  Evils  of  the  old 
stagecraft  —  Belasco  and  the  naturalistic  revolt  —  The  artists' 
revolt  —  The  improved  pictorial  setting  —  The  plastic  setting  — 
The  decorative  setting  —  Stylization  —  Symbolistic  settings  — 
Light    and    color  —  Unifying    devices  —  Gordon    Craig's    screens 

—  Sam  Hume's  adaptable  setting 

Chapter  VIII    The  Question  of  Audiences  and  the 
Community  175 

Necessary  relation  between  theatre  and  commxmity  —  Organiz- 
ing audiences  without  supplying  theatres  —  Where  the  Drama 
League  fails  —  Defining  a  community  theatre  —  Potential  audi- 
ences in  American  cities  —  Advantages  of  the  subscription  system 

—  The  Free  Folk  Stage  of  Berlin  —  Extension  work  through  the 
schools  —  Theatres  as  social  centres  —  The  Ypsilanti  Players  — 
The  Prairie  Playhouse  —  Settlement  playhouses  —  The  Neigh- 
borhood Playhouse  and  the  New  York  situation 

Chapter  IX     Organization  and  Management  188 

Lack  of  business  efficiency  in  little  theatres  —  Value  of  soimd 
nuoutgement  —  The  three-fold  system  of  organization  —  The  con- 


Contents 

trolling  group  —  Questions  of  ownership  —  The  artist-director  — 
The  business  manager  —  His  duties  —  System  in  handling  money 
and  book-keeping  —  Budget-making  —  Income  and  expenditures 
during  an  average  little  theatre  season  —  Advertising  —  The  venal 
press  as  a  factor  in  the  degradation  of  the  theatre  —  Endowment 

Chapter  X     Buildings  and  Equipment  217 

The  synthetic  ideal  and  theatre  architecture  —  The  architecture 
of  the  show  business  —  First  steps  toward  the  ideal  building  — 
Design  and  decoration  —  Stage  equipment  —  Size  —  The  ideal 
playhouse  of  the  future 

Chapter  XI     Unrealized  Ideals  228 

S  lightness  of  the  insurgent  achievement  so  far  —  The  ideal 
American  art  theatre  —  The  way  of  its  coming  —  Present  foim- 
dations 

A  Discursive  Bibliography  233 

Appendix:     Productions  at  the  Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre, 
Season  of  1916-17,  with  Casts  241 

Index  247 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

1  Helena's  Husband  (Frontispiece) 

2  The  Intruder  facing  page  20 

3  The  Constant  Lover  facing  page  30 

4  The  Chinese  Lantern  facing  page  50 

5  The  Glittering  Gate  facing  page  64 

6  The  Romance  of  the  Rose  facing  page  82 

7  The  Lost  Silk  Hat  facing  page  100 

8  Sam  Hume  as  Abraham  and  Frances  Loushton  as 

Isaac  facing  page  116 

9  Lonesomelike  facing  page  130 

10  The  Wonder  Hat  facing  page  150 

11  The  Tents  of  the  Arabs  facing  page  162 

12  Helena's  Husband  facing  page  172 

13  Abraham  and  Isaac  facing  page  182 

14  A  Doctor  in  Spite  of  Himself  facing  page  192 

15  A  Doctor  in  Spite  of  Himself  facing  page  212 

16  Suppressed  Desires  facing  page-  224 

Note  on  the  illustrations:  All  the  illustrations  are  from  photo- 
graphs by  Frank  Scott  Clark,  and  all  represent  productions  at  the 
Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre  of  Detroit.  Eleven  of  the  settings  shown 
are  arrangements  of  the  permanent  adaptable  scene  designed  for 
the  theatre  by  Sam  Hume.  He  made  most  of  the  adaptations, 
certain  ones  being  worked  out  in  collaboration  with  Miss  Katherine 
McEwen.  Detailed  descriptions  and  ground  plans  of  the  more 
important  scenes  will  be  found  in  the  chapter  on  stage  settings. 


THE  ART  THEATRE 

CHAPTER  I 

PRESENT   CONDITIONS   IN   THE   AMERICAN 
THEATRE 

THE  art  theatre  has  no  past  in  America. 
Even  in  the  present  it  is  but  lightly  in- 
volved in  the  dramatic  situation.  But 
for  the  future — the  only  direction  of  time  that 
really  counts  when  an  art  is  young — it  is  the  one 
certain  corrective  for  the  evils  now  existing  in  the 
playhouse. 

In  considering  the  theatre  as  an  art  it  is  pos- 
sible to  overlook  almost  entirely  the  recognized 
playhouses  and  so-called  "artists"  of  today,  and 
yet  lose  nothing  of  substantial  worth  from  an 
evaluation  based  on  lasting  standards.  The  en- 
tire organized  institution  of  the  theatre  in  Amer- 
ica, as  it  is  known  to  nine  out  of  every  ten  intel- 
ligent people,  may  be  safely  disregarded  by  the 
writer  who  is  concerned  with  world  movements 
and  art  values. 

Thomas  H.  Dickinson  recently  said  that  the 

13 


The  Art  Theatre 

history  of  the  English  theatre  of  the  last  twenty 
years  had  been  a  history  of  "outsiders."  Insofar 
as  America  has  had  any  dramatic  history  worth 
recording  in  the  last  two  or  three  decades,  it  too 
is  concerned  only  with  outsiders.  The  inside  in- 
stitution is  important  only  as  a  background  and 
contrast:  for  the  illuminating  mistakes  it  has 
made,  for  keeping  alive  a  noble  tradition  (which 
it  failed  to  live  up  to),  and  for  setting  up  an 
absolute  dictatorship  which,  within  the  last  five 
years,  has  irritated  and  stimulated  a  few  thinking 
artists  into  revolt. 

The  forces  that  count  in  the  theatre  today  are 
the  forces  of  revolt.  The  actual  progress  toward 
an  ideal  theatre  has  been  made  in  fly-by-night 
projects,  by  dissatisfied  groups,  by  outcasts. 
These  outsiders  have  usually  been  rich  in  ambi- 
tion and  artistic  impulse  but  bankrupt  in  money 
and  business  control.  The  future  of  the  theatre 
as  an  art,  nevertheless,  lies  in  their  hands.  It 
is  bound  up  with  qualities  and  refinements  so 
foreign  to  the  existing  institution,  and  its  de- 
velopment demands  abilities  so  clearly  impossible 
under  the  present  organization,  that  the  only  sal- 
vation lies  in  further  development  of  the  insurgent 
movement. 

A  survey  of  present  conditions,  while  leaving  no 
doubt  about  the  immense  material  strength  of  the 
14 


Conditions  in  the  American  Theatre 

regular  theatre,  and  the  anaemic  weakness  of  the 
outsiders,  still  discloses  a  general  condition  of 
restlessness  and  a  gradual  but  steady  gain  on  the 
part  of  the  minority.  It  shows,  moreover,  a  real 
fear  in  the  ruling  mind  on  account  of  the  petty 
encroachments  already  made  by  the  insurgents, 
as  if  the  established  faction  sensed  the  certain 
crumbling  of  the  present  order. 


The  American  commercial  theatre,  organized 
as  an  all-embracing,  interlocking  system,  is  con- 
ducted as  a  speculative  institution,  with  its  first 
object  the  making  of  profits.  It  would  be  idle  to 
say  that  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  art,  since  that 
is  in  one  sense  the  sole  commodity  in  which  it 
deals;  but  its  art  is  the  art  of  commerce,  the  art 
that  will  please  the  greatest  number  of  average 
people,  the  art  that  seeks  its  appeal  in  sentiment 
and  prettiness  and  sexual  emotion  and  situa- 
tions begetting  uncontrolled  laughter — a  sort 
of  Hearsfs-Cosmopolitan-Ladies' -Home-Journal 
art.  Insofar  as  it  touches  within  the  boundaries 
of  the  art  that  is  both  true  to  life  and  spiritual,  it 
does  so  through  chance  inspiration  and  acci- 
dental co-ordination. 

Occasionally  one  sees  in  a  Broadway  theatre  a 
production  that  stirs  the  soul,  that  evokes  that 

15 


The  Art  Theatre 

mood  which  is  a  response  to  art  alone.  But  the 
next  forty  or  fifty  productions  are  so  completely 
innocent  of  any  suspicion  of  spiritual  values  that 
one  is  forced  to  put  down  the  exception  as  a  ran- 
dom thrust.  In  the  end  it  always  comes  back  to 
the  same  analysis:  the  American  commercial  the- 
atre is  organized  to  earn  profits  in  competition, 
and  its  art  will  always  be  pulled  down  to  that 
standard  which  experience  has  shown  will  please 
the  largest  group  of  money-spenders.  The  art 
that  goes  beyond  the  obvious  is  discouraged,  and 
the  art  that  reaches  down  to  deeper  truths  goes 
unrecognized. 

If  our  sculpture  were  produced  under  such  a 
handicap  we  should  never  have  a  St.  Gaudens  or 
a  Jo  Davidson,  but  only  a  race  of  manipulators 
and  imitators  producing  those  horrid  sweet  statu- 
ettes which  our  pseudo-art  stores  now  import  from 
Italy  by  the  thousand,  for  "the  art  trade."  And 
if  a  group  of  businessmen  controlled  all  the  studios 
and  galleries  as  absolutely  as  they  control  the  the- 
atre, we  should  never  have  a  Sargent  or  a  Davies, 
but  only  a  race  of  Harrison  Fishers  and  Howard 
Chandler  Christies  and  similar  corrupters  of  the 
art  morals  of  the  newsstand  public.  The  theatre 
alone  has  been  so  fettered  that  it  has  stifled  creative 
effort,  discouraged  originality,  and  driven  out  the 
true  artist. 
16 


Conditions  in  the  American  Theatre 

Under  such  conditions  it  would  be  useless  for 
the  artists  to  try  to  compete  with  the  majority 
theatre  on  its  own  ground.  The  Washington 
Square  Players,  for  instance,  have  suffered  a  dis- 
tinct loss  on  the  artistic  side  due  to  the  competition 
they  have  had  to  meet  on  the  business  side  since 
they  elbowed  their  way  to  Broadway.  Such  a 
group  may  be  able  to  stick  until  it  makes  its  per- 
manent place  in  the  dramatic  business  world ;  but 
in  the  meantime  its  position  both  financially  and 
artistically  is  likely  to  be  precarious.  The  nor- 
mal corrective  is  far  more  likely  to  be  some- 
thing distinctive  that  will  grow  out  of  the  little 
theatres,  something  entirely  disconnected  from  the 
regular  organization,  endowed  if  necessary,  but 
always  devoted  primarily  to  art  rather  than 
profits,  and  pursuing  its  way  without  regard  to 
competition — unless,  indeed,  the  regulars  come 
over  into  the  new  fold,  and  meet  the  competition 
of  art  on  its  ground.  Then  everybody  will  be  an 
outsider  and  nobody  unhappy. 

n 

What  one  has  to  place  beside  the  discouraging 
picture  of  the  commercial  theatre  does  not  at  first 
beget  much  comfort.  The  "little  theatre  move- 
ment," distinctly  valuable  in  its  small  way,  is 
yet  hardly  more  than  a  promise.     The  faults  of 

17 


The  Art  Theatre 

the  little  theatre  are  obvious:  an  alarming  ten- 
dency to  fade  away  before  the  first  summer  comes, 
a  fine  scorn  of  business  management,  and  lack  of 
confidence  and  stability  of  purpose.  It  is  some- 
times timid,  frantically  disclaiming  any  intention 
toward  reform,  and  admitting  only  a  desire  to 
"please  ourselves" ;  and  sometimes  boastful,  call- 
ing attention  to  its  littleness  as  if  that  in  itself 
were  a  virtue,  instead  of  simply  a  sign  that  it 
hasn't  grown  up.  It  is,  nevertheless,  the  most 
hopeful  thing  in  the  theatre  world  today,  because 
its  roots  are  in  native  soil  and  because  it  is  reach- 
ing up  beyond  those  realms  of  commerce  and 
materialism  in  which  the  business  theatre  con- 
stantly exists.  It  is  rich,  moreover,  in  those 
things  that  the  other  theatre  lacks:  artistic  taste, 
cultural  background,  creative  energy,  and  im- 
agination. 

As  these  two,  the  Goliath  and  the  potential 
David,  stand  side  by  side,  we  who  have  a  vision 
of  a  true  art  theatre — something  dedicated  to  vital 
plays,  inspired  acting  and  creative  staging,  well- 
managed,  combining  the  insight  of  the  amateur 
spirit  with  the  solid  core  of  hard  work  and  fin- 
ished achievement  of  the  professional  stage — we 
sit  by,  sometimes,  to  be  sure,  wringing  our  hands 
in  despair,  at  others  believing  fondly  that  the 
18 


Conditions  in  the  American  Theatre 

youngster  will  grow  up  into  ways  that  are  both 
beautiful  and  wise. 

A  year  ago  the  prospect  was  black  enough ;  but 
the  season  just  closed  has  afforded  many  reasons 
for  renewed  hope.  The  Chicago  Little  Theatre 
emerges  from  its  worst  storm  with  three  years  of 
financial  security  ahead;  the  Arts  and  Crafts 
Theatre  of  Detroit,  with  no  other  endowment 
than  freedom  from  the  rent  burden,  closes  a  series 
of  typical  art-theatre  productions  with  a  clean 
record  both  artistically  and  financially;  a  score  of 
new  groups  with  artistic  possibilities  have  sprung 
into  being ;  and  Dunsany,  most  typical  of  the  new 
dramatists,  has  achieved  wide  popular  acceptance 
solely  through  the  insurgent  groups. 

Even  though  we  see  clearly  that  America  has 
not  yet  developed  one  normal,  permanent  art  the- 
atre, we  who  care,  have  seen  the  time  ripen  for  the 
establishment  of  such  a  theatre :  we  see  its  distinc- 
tive technique  taking  shape;  we  see  artists  worthy 
of  it — playwrights,  directors,  designers,  even  ac- 
tors— struggling  up  out  of  the  average  little  the- 
atre incompetence;  we  see  other  important  artists, 
now  dissipating  their  talents  in  the  commercial 
theatre,  who  could  be  cured  of  the  conventional 
mannerisms  and  taints  and  brought  over  to  a 
soundly  organized  progressive  institution ;  and  we 

19 


The  Art  Theatre 

see  millionaires  curious  about  the  new  theatre,  and 
trembling  on  the  verge  of  endowment.  Some  day 
we  shall  shove  two  or  three  of  them  over  the  edge, 
and  I  am  confident  that  we  shall  be  able  to  show 
that  beyond  lies  a  field  as  inspiring  for  them  as 
for  the  artists.  These  millionaires,  moreover,  live 
not  only  in  New  York  but  in  Detroit,  not  only  in 
Chicago  but  in  San  Francisco ;  and  they  will  build 
not  an  aristocratic  national  theatre  but  native  art 
theatres.  (A  real  millionaire  is  not  necessary. 
A  quarter-  or  even  an  eighth-millionaire  would 
do,  if  he  saw  the  true  relative  value  between  art 
and  his  business.) 

If  we  have  seen  each  new  attempt  fail  so  far, 
it  has  been  sometimes  because  wealth  tried  to  take 
the  place  of  artistic  taste,  instead  of  endowing  the 
artists,  or  because  artistic  enthusiasm  refused 
to  link  up  with  the  practical  budget-making 
common  sense  which  is  the  only  excuse  for  ask- 
ing wealth  to  co-operate.  But  no  matter  how 
many  failures  there  have  been,  the  spirit  of  the 
little  theatre  and  community  theatre  has  persisted, 
and  new  perceptions  of  theatre  art  have  devel- 
oped; and  I  for  one  believe  actively  in  the  swift 
coming  of  organizations  to  conserve  that  spirit 
and  satisfy  those  perceptions,  organizations  com- 
bining high  purpose,  sound  management  and  will- 
ingness to  work  hard  through  the  urge  of  art 
20 


Conditions  in  the  American  Theatre 

— the  only  combination  that  spells  good  dramatic 
art. 

ni 

Let  us  for  a  moment  strike  back  a  generation  or 
two  and  see  how  the  American  theatre  became 
so  thoroughly  commercialized.  Thirty  years  ago 
America  owned  excellent  repertory  and  stock  play- 
houses and  great  actors,  and  the  drama  gave  prom- 
ise of  developing  side  by  side  with  the  other  arts. 
Through  some  fault  it  degenerated  instead,  and 
came  to  a  place  of  actual  degradation  in  the  art 
world. 

Twenty-two  years  ago  two  groups  of  influential 
managers  combined  to  control  a  larger  field  of 
production  than  either  could  dominate  alone.  The 
alliance  became  so  powerful  that  other  managers 
joined,  either  in  the  hope  of  sharing  the  larger 
profits  or  in  self-defence.  The  "syndicate" 
adopted  the  methods  common  to  lawless  "big  busi- 
ness" of  that  day.  It  started  a  merciless  cam- 
paign to  stamp  out  competition  and  kill  off  rivals. 
It  bribed  into  its  ranks  as  many  big  men  as  it 
could,  and  then  frightened  into  line  as  many  more, 
big  and  little,  as  could  be  bullied.  Then  it  fought 
the  remaining  few,  managers  and  actors,  by  re- 
lentless warfare,  closing  theatres  to  them,  and 
using   all   the   familiar  tactics  of  the  lockout. 

21 


The  Art  Theatre 

After  a  short  campaign  so  few  rebels  remained 
that  the  American  theatre  lay  practically  helpless 
in  the  hands  of  a  few  New  York  speculators.  No 
cornering  of  a  market  was  ever  more  skilfully  or 
completely  manipulated. 

Certain  gains  under  such  a  monopoly  are  easily 
recognized.  For  owners  of  theatres  outside  New 
York  the  new  system  meant  a  continued  succes- 
sion of  companies  with  tried  plays,  in  place  of  the 
previous  uncertain  bookings.  When  rightly  man- 
aged it  prevented  two  similar  and  worthy  pro- 
ductions playing  in  opposition  one  week,  with  an 
empty  week  following.  The  theatre  market  was 
in  a  sense  stabilized.  And  of  course  the  com- 
bination was  a  success  from  the  speculators' 
standpoint.  Wasteful  experiment  was  elimi- 
nated, profits  formerly  scattered  to  a  hundred  in- 
dependent agencies  now  flowed  regularly  to  the 
one  headquarters  in  New  York,  and  price-raising 
was  possible  on  a  cornered  commodity. 

It  is  necessary  to  add,  before  turning  to  the 
other  side  of  the  case — the  losses  entailed  in  the 
commercializing  process^ — that  about  a  decade 
ago  there  came  a  revolt  against  the  syndicate.  It 
succeeded  to  the  extent  of  opening  the  field  to  a 
rival  business  organization.  The  burden  was 
partially  lifted  from  the  shoulders  of  the  small 
owner  of  theatres  on  the  road,  and  the  small  pro- 
22 


Conditions  in  the  American  Theatre 

ducer  came  back  into  the  field  under  definite  hmi- 
tations.  But  it  was  distinctly  a  business  revolt, 
and  it  failed  to  change  conditions  so  far  as  the 
artist  is  concerned.  He  remained  either  a  servant 
of  the  businessmen  or  an  outsider.  We  now  have 
two  co-operating  syndicates  instead  of  one. 

The  evil  effects  of  the  system  in  general  were: 
loss  of  freedom  for  the  artist;  destruction  of  the 
training-grounds  in  which  both  actor  and  play- 
wright had  formerly  gained  experience  and  early 
success;  and  ruinous  control  by  New  York  over 
all  the  important  theatres  in  the  country.  Reper- 
tory suffered  a  quick  death,  since  one  long  run 
costs  less  money  than  frequent  change  of  bill ;  and 
independent  experiment  soon  disappeared.  In 
those  individual  contributive  arts  that  go  to  make 
up  the  larger  art  of  the  theatre — playwriting,  act- 
ing, staging,  decoration — the  havoc  wrought  was 
so  great  that  we  have  not  today  one  actor  to  com- 
pare with  the  best  of  the  repertory  days  in  this 
country,  nor  one  playwright  comparable  to  a  score 
developed  in  the  progressive  movement  in  the  Eu- 
ropean theatre,  nor  one  director  or  decorator 
worthy  to  be  placed  beside  the  thirty  or  forty  en- 
lightened ones  in  Europe.  We  have  not,  indeed, 
one  theatre  artist  of  any  sort  who  is  internation- 
ally important. 

In  the  matter  of  playwriting,  centralized  control 

23 


The  Art  Theatre 

of  all  the  theatres  in  the  land  meant  standardiza- 
tion of  types  of  production,  so  that  the  dramatist 
who  brought  forward  anything  new  found  every 
trying-out  ground  closed  to  him.  "Kept"  play- 
wrights became  the  rule.  It  was  easier  and  safer 
to  repeat  a  proven  formula,  or  adapt  a  foreign 
success,  than  to  risk  money  on  untried  types  of 
play.  If  a  native  playwright  did  get  by  with  an 
undoubted  success,  it  was  easier  for  the  manager 
to  repeat  variations  on  that  than  to  give  the  next 
fellow  a  chance.  Such  a  false  standard  of  lavish, 
if  inartistic,  staging  developed,  moreover,  that  it 
cost  a  manager  approximately  $5000  to  try  out  a 
play.  Under  such  a  burden  of  expense  even  those 
producers  who  retained  some  desire  to  encourage 
native  art  hesitated  to  touch  anything  new.  The 
American  playwright  for  two  decades  thus  was 
left  without  laboratory  or  studio.  Only  with  the 
coming  of  the  little  theatres,  and  especially  of 
such  organizations  as  The  Provincetown  Players 
and  the  Players'  Workshop,  has  his  testing- 
ground  been  to  some  extent  restored. 

For  the  actor  the  conditions  were — and  are — 
even  worse.  The  breaking  up  of  the  repertory 
and  dignified  stock  companies  destroyed  the  train- 
ing school  where  so  many  of  the  older  artists 
gained  their  most  fruitful  experience  and  inspira- 
tion. It  made  the  living  of  the  actor  insecure, 
24 


Conditions  in  the  American  Theatre 

there  being  no  longer  any  chance  of  association 
with  the  same  company  in  a  permanent  home  for 
even  a  season  at  a  time.  Even  actors  of  the  high- 
est class  are  today  required  to  live  lives  of  per- 
petual uncertainty,  because  their  contracts  are  de- 
pendent solely  upon  the  financial  success  of  plays 
and  companies  chosen  and  presented  without  re- 
gard to  their  own  preferences  and  ideals.  They 
have  no  choice  but  to  seek  peripatetic  employ- 
ment under  a  system  that  makes  permanent  in- 
terest impossible,  and  one  that  denies  leisure  for 
proper  study  of  their  art. 

But  perhaps  the  most  destructive  practice  in 
this  connection  was  that  of  creating  and  exploiting 
"stars."  The  star  system  implies  on  its  face  an 
unbalanced  and  undemocratic  art,  in  which  the 
poor  is  necessarily  placed  beside  the  worthy.  Of 
the  stars  themselves  little  need  be  said.  Some  of 
them  are  potentially  great  actors  and  would  show 
it  if  they  could  cut  loose  from  the  system.  But 
it  cannot  be  insisted  upon  too  strongly  that  star 
production  is  pernicious  for  the  minor  actor. 
Not  only  does  it  create  a  false  ideal  in  the  com- 
pany, an  ideal  that  impels  the  young  actor  to 
cultivate  and  parade  every  idiosyncrasy  of  per- 
sonality and  learn  every  trick  which  might  lead  to 
stardom,  but  it  deadens  originality  and  precludes 
breadth  of  training  and  understanding,  by  con- 

25 


The  Art  Theatre 

demning  the  rising  artist  to  year  after  year  of  type 
parts.  The  long  run  and  the  star  system  are 
largely  responsible  for  that  dearth  of  intelligent 
clean-speaking  actors  which  exists  on  the  Amer- 
ican stage  today. 

The  businessmen  who  changed  the  actor's 
attitude  from  that  of  an  artist  to  that  of  a  mere 
wage-earner  are  further  responsible  for  the  recent 
wholesale  desertion  from  a  great  art  to  a  great 
industry.  I  refer,  of  course,  to  that  tide  of  prom- 
ising actors  who  are  showing  their  apathy  by  go- 
ing over  to  the  well-salaried  but  inartistic  mov- 
ing picture  business.  Had  the  ideals  of  the  play- 
house not  been  lost,  monetary  advantage  would 
not  have  decided  their  choice. 

The  effect  of  the  system  in  the  matter  of  staging 
was  no  less  unfortunate  than  in  the  fields  of  play- 
writing  and  acting.  The  lack  of  artist-directors, 
which  today  seems  the  chief  obstacle  in  the  way 
of  developing  art  theatres,  is  directly  due  to  the 
standardization  of  methods  in  the  regular  theatre. 
The  business  man  took  control  and  delegated  the 
designing  of  the  settings  to  one  helper,  the  design- 
ing of  costumes  to  another,  the  stage  management 
to  another.  He  insisted,  moreover,  that  each  one 
of  these  helpers  do  his  work  in  a  way  that  squared 
with  accepted  notions  of  stage  art,  in  this  case,  of 
course,  business  art.  Under  such  a  system  initia- 
26 


Conditions  in  the  American  Theatre 

tive  in  stagecraft  was  crushed,  the  ambitious 
young  artist  who  went  into  scenic  design  soon 
became  a  machine,  and  play  production  in  Amer- 
ica finds  itself  twenty  years  behind  its  German 
counterpart. 

Recently  the  businessmen  woke  up  to  find  that 
European  theatres  had  discovered  methods  of 
staging  infinitely  better  than  the  accepted  ones, 
and  that  in  this  country  certain  little  theatres  and 
an  opera  house  had  imported  or  developed  artists 
capable  of  creating  some  of  "the  new  effects." 
The  commercial  managers  immediately  bribed  the 
best  of  these  artists  to  come  to  their  rescue.  The 
results  were  interesting  from  a  purely  decorative 
standpoint,  but  something  was  lacking.  Broad- 
way pieces  were  decked  in  the  clothes  of  the  new 
stagecraft — but  remained  vulgar.  The  point 
that  both  sides  overlooked  was  this:  these  artists 
can  do  their  best  work  only  when  they  are  given 
full  charge  of  the  production  (if  they  are  directors 
as  well  as  designers),  or  when  they  work  with 
other  artists  and  not  with  businessmen.  So  long 
as  a  single  business  man  is  allowed  to  leave  his 
business  office  and  interfere  with  activities  behind 
the  curtain,  the  sort  of  staging  that  creates  artistic 
illusion  and  unity  of  impression  will  be  impossi- 
ble in  the  theatre.  Joseph  Urban  and  Robert  Ed- 
mond  Jones  take  orders  from  the  shopkeepers  in 

27 


The  Art  Theatre 

the  theatre;  and  their  work  is  so  changed  that 
the  spirit  of  the  new  staging  still  finds  truer  ex- 
pression in  Chicago  or  Detroit  than  in  New  York. 

In  one  other  direction  the  theatre  system  has 
put  us  decades  behind  the  best  development  of  the 
Europeans.  In  theatre  architecture  we  are  still 
struggling  along  in  a  musty,  Victorian  sort  of 
way.  With  a  few  notable  exceptions  (for  the 
most  part  products  of  the  little  theatre  movement) 
our  playhouses  are  not  in  any  sense  temples  of  art, 
but  only  vulgar  amusement  palaces.  At  best  they 
are  showy  and  ornate;  at  worst  they  are  inexcus- 
ably gilded  and  varnished  and  stencilled.  They 
reflect  the  taste  of  the  businessmen.  Again  it  is 
business  art,  designed  to  attract  the  average.^  In 
the  atmosphere  created  by  such  architecture,  true 
theatre  art  is  all  but  impossible. 

Such  are  the  losses  to  the  contributive  arts, 
which  have  resulted  from  the  organization  of  the 
theatre  as  a  business.  To  these  I  may  add  one 
other  misfortune :  the  people  of  this  country  have 
lost  all  respect  for  the  theatre.  They  visualize 
it  as  a  business,  like  insurance,  or  selling  grocer- 

1 1  think  that  I  have  adopted  the  phraseology  of  Max  Eastman 
here.  In  his  book  "Journalism  vs.  Art"  he  stated  very  clearly  the 
case  of  business  art  as  it  concerns  the  American  magazine.  In 
writing  of  the  very  similar  case  of  the  American  theatre  I  have 
foimd  it  difficult  to  avoid  one  or  two  of  his  phrases — for  which  I 
hereby  acknowledge  indebtedness. 

28 


Conditions  in  the  American  Theatre 

ies.  To  be  implicated  in  theatre  work  even  in- 
volves more  or  less  risk  of  one's  reputation  and 
standing  in  the  community.  In  Europe  (exclud- 
ing England)  the  theatre  is  considered  with  a 
certain  amount  of  reverence.  It  is  one  of  the  arts. 
Each  leading  playhouse  is  as  important  to  its 
town  as  the  art  museum  or  the  cathedral.  In 
America  the  gas  works  and  the  department  store 
are  much  more  likely  to  be  pointed  out  with  pride 
to  the  visitor. 

IV 

It  took  many  years  for  critics  to  realize  the 
full  mischief  that  was  being  worked  through  the 
manipulation  of  the  theatre  as  a  speculative  med- 
ium. As  long  ago  as  1900  clear-sighted  com- 
mentators like  Norman  Hapgood  threw  search- 
lights on  the  situation,  and  Walter  Prichard 
Eaton  and  others  have  kept  the  issue  alive.  But 
it  has  taken  us  many  years  more  to  learn  that  the 
theatre  cannot  be  saved  from  within.  Only  now 
are  we  beginning  to  understand  that  revolutionists 
who  secede  from  the  older  playhouse  and  men 
trained  in  the  other  arts  must  be  charged  with 
the  creation  of  a  new  theatre. 

If  I  have  indicated  a  certain  lack  of  confidence 
in  the  little  theatres  as  agencies  of  reform,  it  is 
because  the  fetich  of  size  does  not  impress  me  at 

29 


The  Art  Theatre 

all.  I  am  quick  to  say  that  what  gain  we  have 
made  in  face  of  the  loss  through  commercializa- 
tion is  to  be  credited  to  the  little  theatre  move- 
ment. At  least  the  playwrights  again  have  lab- 
oratories for  experiment,  and  a  new  generation  of 
decorators  is  in  training.  But — and  here  is  the 
central  constructive  thought  of  my  book — unless 
we  carry  the  little  theatres  beyond  the  ideals  most 
of  them  stand  for,  unless  we  professionalize  them 
while  preserving  their  amateur  spirit,  unless  we 
organize  them  efficiently  for  art  production,  we 
shall  be  little  better  off  than  before  they  came. 
For  otherwise  we  shall  have  only  a  smug  business 
institution  beside  an  amateur  institution  revelling 
in  artistic  anarchy  and  bankruptcy. 

At  least  three  groups,  in  Chicago,  Detroit  and 
New  York,  have  risen  above  that  reproach  of 
amateurishness  and  crudity  which  has  come  to 
be  an  implication  of  the  term  "little  theatre." 
They  are  America's  first  steps  toward  art  thea- 
tre organization.  They  have  been  proving  the 
ground  as  they  developed,  and  they  have  shown 
that  an  audience  exists.  They  have  helped, 
moreover,  to  make  a  clear  cleavage  between  the 
commercial  theatre  and  a  new  professional  art 
theatre  as  yet  in  its  infancy.  But  they  must  be 
stabilized  and  similar  groups  must  be  developed 
out  of  little  theatres  and  art  societies  elsewhere. 
30 


THE  CONSTANT  LOVER 


Conditions  in  the  American  Theatre 

For  the  real  art  of  the  theatre  in  America  de- 
pends upon  the  development  of  fixed  local  play- 
houses with  resident  companies  dedicated  to 
repertory  production  of  the  best  that  dramatic 
art  has  to  offer.  Not  only  is  the  commercial  thea- 
tre unable  to  realize  the  finer  ideals,  but  the  very 
nature  of  the  typical  art-theatre  play  is  such  that 
it  cannot  be  transported  by  travelling  companies, 
and  cannot  be  brought  to  its  finest  expression  with- 
out the  aid  of  artists  working  in  the  light  of  the 
amateur  spirit.  Until  there  are  independent 
theatres  and  organizations  in  the  several  parts 
of  the  country,  directed  by  artists  and  not  busi- 
nessmen, and  capable  of  staging  and  interpreting 
adequately  the  best  from  the  Greeks  and  Shake- 
speare to  Shaw  and  Dunsany,  we  shall  look  in 
vain  for  the  coming  of  the  art  theatre. 


31 


CHAPTER  II 

THE    COMING   OF    THE    ART   THEATRE 

THE  title  of  this  chapter  is  a  prophecy  and 
not  a  description,  so  far  as  this  coun- 
try is  concerned.  But  I  say  the  more 
confidently  that  it  is  prophecy  rather  than  mere 
speculation  because  one  can  show  that  already 
there  exist  in  Europe  a  number  of  playhouses 
so  removed,  by  ideals  and  organization,  from  the 
commercial  theatre  as  to  merit  the  distinctive 
group  title  "the  art  theatre";  and  that  in  America 
there  exist  today  the  symptoms  of  discontent,  re- 
volt and  amateur  enthusiasm  which  preceded  the 
rise  of  such  institutions  in  Europe. 

From  the  artist's  standpoint  the  established 
European  theatres  of  twenty  and  thirty  years  ago 
seemed  almost  as  hopeless  as  does  the  organized 
American  theatre  of  today.  The  protests  of  An- 
toine  in  France,  of  Fuchs  in  Germany  and  of 
Gordon  Craig  in  England,  when  re-read  sound 
remarkably  like  those  of  the  "radicals"  of  this 
country.  Conditions  in  Europe  were  never  quite 
so  bad  as  here  in  the  matter  of  business  getting  a 
32 


The  Coming  of  the  Art  Theatre 

strangle-hold  on  art,  and  deadening  all  original- 
ity and  initiative.  But  dramatic  production  was 
quite  as  stereotyped,  quite  as  one-sided,  as  on  this 
side  of  the  Atlantic.  The  conservatives  had  the 
whip  hand,  and  the  progressives  could  renounce 
their  better  selves  or  turn  to  another  art. 


The  revolt  started  with  the  Theatre  Libre  move- 
ment. How  far  that  development  differed  in 
ideals  from  the  art  theatre  movement  has  not  been 
sufficiently  emphasized  in  the  past.  Its  ultimate 
aims  were  quite  foreign  to  anything  implied  in 
the  later  development.  But  it  was  negatively  very 
important,  for  it  cleared  away  a  lot  of  the  old 
superstitions  of  the  stage  and  opened  the  play- 
house to  innovators  and  amateurs. 

It  was  in  1887  that  the  French  actor  Antoine 
founded  the  Theatre  Libre  in  Paris.  For  nearly 
a  decade  he  produced  there,  with  the  unqualified 
approval  of  a  small  group,  and  with  the  bitterest 
censure  of  the  conservative  critics  and  public,  the 
most  radical  compositions  of  naturalistic  and  real- 
istic writers.  Then  he  founded  the  Theatre  An- 
toine, where  he  continued  the  naturalistic  tradi- 
tion, but  without  the  worst  excesses  of  the  earlier 
venture.  The  movement  spread  to  Germany  with 
the  foundation  of  the  Freie  Biihne  at  Berlin  in 


The  Art  Theatre 

1889;  and  in  1891  J.  T.  Grein  established  the 
Independent  Theatre  in  London. 

All  these  theatres  exhibited  earmarks  of  a  defi- 
nite movement.  All  were  private  or  subscription 
ventures — merely  a  way  of  evading  censorship. 
All  announced  their  object  as  rebellion  against 
the  monopolistic  and  anti-libertarian  commercial 
theatre.  All  were  definitely  dedicated  to  natural- 
ism or  realism  as  an  art  standard. 

In  France  the  movement  was  narrower  than  in 
Germany  and  England.  Although  a  very  few 
plays  of  Ibsen  and  others  of  the  Northern  drama- 
tists were  introduced,  French  drama  was  pro- 
duced almost  exclusively.  Perhaps  because  of 
this  provincial  limitation  there  developed  no 
French  school  or  movement  to  carry  on  the  im- 
petus created  by  Antoine's  group. 

In  Germany  the  Freie  Buhne  was  more  truly  a 
free  theatre  in  the  international  sense,  and  it  had 
the  widest  effect  upon  the  regular  playhouses. 
Its  work,  indeed,  was  so  well  done  that  the  grip 
of  traditionalism  was  largely  broken  in  Germany 
by  the  end  of  the  century.  The  original  revolu- 
tionary playhouse  went  out  of  existence,  but  thea- 
tres throughout  Germany  had  then  been  opened  to 
the  new  drama,  and  the  way  had  been  cleared  for 
the  coming  of  new  ideas  of  stage  production. 

In  England  the  movement  culminated  in  the 
34 


The  Coming  of  the  Art  Theatre 

development  of  an  exceedingly  important  group 
of  realistic  dramatists:  Shaw,  Barker,  Gals- 
worthy, and  a  half  dozen  lesser  writers.  But, 
as  in  France,  the  achievement  was  not  far-reach- 
ing. The  institution  of  the  theatre  as  a  whole 
was  very  little  changed.  The  playwright  with 
new  ideas  still  finds  himself  an  outsider,  and  such 
contributions  as  England  has  made  to  an  art- 
theatre  technique  can  be  summed  up  in  the  inde- 
pendent pioneering  of  the  exiled  Gordon  Craig, 
such  short-lived  experiments  as  Granville  Bar- 
ker's brief  "seasons"  as  director,  and  the  more 
permanent  but  less  inspired  repertory  theatre  ven- 
tures. 

It  is  probable  that  the  whole  realistic  move- 
ment in  the  theatre  has  been  vastly  over-rated 
as  a  positive  contribution  to  dramatic  art.  Its 
negative  value  as  paving  the  way  for  the  next 
phase  is  incalculable  at  this  early  time;  and  its 
social  value  as  restoring  a  healthy  relationship 
between  the  theatre  and  contemporary  life  is  im- 
mense. But  its  final  achievement  when  judged 
by  art  standards,  its  contribution  to  the  develop- 
ment of  a  distinctive  modern  art  of  the  theatre,  has 
been  slight  even  as  compared  with  the  as-yet- 
immature  "art  theatre  movement."  The  natural- 
ists and  more  extreme  realists,  in  the  desire  to 
limit  themselves  to  showing  a  segment  of  life,  or 

35 


The  Art  Theatre 

to  proving  a  thesis,  missed  something  of  the  spirit- 
ual, the  imaginative,  the  eternal.  At  worst,  their 
plays  are  displeasing,  vulgar,  and  even  immoral 
and  disgusting;  at  best  they  are  narrowed  down 
to  an  unimaginative  corner  of  art-expression. 

The  Theatre  Libre  movement,  then,  insofar  as 
it  concerns  the  present  study,  had  only  these  ef- 
fects: it  demolished  superstitions  regarding  pro- 
fessionalism, opened  the  theatre  to  new  types  of 
drama,  substituted  a  natural  (if  uninspired)  sort 
of  acting  for  the  old  artificiality  and  conventional- 
ity, and  proved  that  a  simple  style-less  setting  or 
no  setting  at  all  is  better  than  the  old  crassly  arti- 
ficial or  consciously  spectacular  background. 
For  the  really  constructive  phase  that  followed, 
for  the  beginnings  of  the  theatre  to  be  built  in 
the  clearing  thus  made,  one  must  go  back  to  an 
independent  impulse — to  the  Craig-Appia-Rein- 
hardt  movement,  if  one  may  so  name  it  from  the 
three  most  notable  artists  concerned. 

n 

The  most  important  figure  in  the  new  theatre, 
because  most  inspiring  and  most  typical  of  the 
artist  to  come,  is  Gordon  Craig.  He  was  fitted 
by  both  heredity  and  early  training  to  take  a  place 
in  the  accepted  theatre.  But  during  his  brief  ex- 
perience there  he  chafed  under  its  limitations  and 
36 


The  Coming  of  the  Art  Theatre 

restraints,  and  finally  broke  away  entirely,  to 
become  the  ablest  and  most  active  crusader  for  a 
new  art  of  the  theatre — the  greatest  outsider  of 
them  all. 

Craig  pointed  out  first  the  lack  of  art  in  the 
existing  playhouse,  charging  that  the  men  of  the 
theatre  were  purveying  a  sort  of  play  based  on  a 
false  conception  of  dramatic  ideals.  While  cas- 
tigating the  bunglers  in  the  commercial  theatre, 
he  protested  against  the  playhouse  being  taken 
over  by  either  the  literary  artists  or  the  easel  paint- 
ers. He  also  turned  his  guns  on  another  set  of 
reformers,  being  always  an  unsparing  critic  of 
realism,  and  never  missing  an  opportunity  to  call 
for  imaginativeness  and  poetry  to  help  save  the 
stage. 

After  his  destructive  criticism  came  a  construc- 
tive one  in  the  form  of  a  plea  for  artists  of  vision 
in  the  theatre.  The  usual  production,  he  right- 
fully argued,  is  not  a  work  of  art  at  all,  because 
it  lacks  that  binding  spiritual  quality,  that  unity 
of  feeling,  which  can  be  achieved  only  through 
the  creative  effort  of  an  artist.  The  performance 
is  a  thing  of  scattered  effect  depending  upon 
chance  association  of  playwright,  actor,  scene- 
painter,  electrician,  carpenter,  and  stage-man- 
ager. If  there  is  one  brain  supervising  all,  it  is 
that  of  a  business  man,  incapable  of  visualizing 

37 


The  Art  Theatre 

the  production  in  imaginative  form,  and  neces- 
sarily delegating  bits  of  control  to  this  and  that 
assistant.  Craig  therefore  called  for  the  training 
of  a  new  race  of  theatre  artists,  of  creative  pro- 
ducers who  would  be  able  to  impart  an  impres- 
sionistic unity  to  every  production  they  brought 
to  the  stage. 

Through  all  the  years  since  he  promulgated 
the  artist-director  theory,  Gordon  Craig  has 
sought  passionately  the  methods  by  which  the 
artist  could  obtain  unity  of  mood  in  the  theatre, 
and  he  has  re-tested  every  element  of  stage  crafts- 
manship in  relation  to  a  unifying  principle.  He 
did  more  than  any  other  artist  to  reform  stage 
setting,  combating  on  the  one  hand  the  ridicu- 
lous artificiality  and  the  spectacular  vulgarity  of 
the  old  style  scene,  and  on  the  other  the  false  per- 
fection and  meticulous  appeal  of  the  naturalistic 
method.  He  sought  to  substitute  suggestion  in 
place  of  imitation,  simplicity  in  place  of  elabora- 
tion, expressiveness  in  place  of  showiness;  and 
always  he  insisted  upon  a  definite  spiritual  or 
emotional  relationship  between  the  background 
and  the  action.  He  insisted  that  current  ideals 
of  acting  must  change:  that  the  actor  must 
subordinate  his  personality  and  become  a  willing 
part  of  a  larger  design,  obedient  to  the  will  of  the 
artist-director,  and  that  the  pernicious  star  sys- 
38 


The  Coming  of  the  Art  Theatre 

tem  must  be  destroyed.  He  attached  a  new  value 
to  movement  on  the  stage,  pointing  out  the  emo- 
tional effectiveness  of  figures  moving  in  design, 
of  shifting  light  and  shadow,  of  changing  pattern 
of  colour.  And  finally  he  pointed  out  that  the 
stage  production,  which  started  out  to  be  an  art 
appealing  to  the  eye — theatre  means  "a  place  for 
seeing" — had  become  merely  a  platform  for  the 
recitation  of  words  appealing  through  the  ear 
to  the  intellect  and  emotions.  He  made  his  plea 
for  a  new  art  of  the  theatre  which  would  be  not 
merely  mentally  or  emotionally  stirring,  but  visu- 
ally beautiful  and  aesthetically  satisfying.  In 
these  things  he  laid  down  foundation  principles 
for  the  whole  art  theatre  movement. 

An  artist  equally  original,  but  more  elusive,  is 
Adolphe  Appia.  He  has  never  wielded  the  same 
influence,  because  he  has  failed  to  get  his  ideas 
before  the  world  in  concrete  form;  and  in  Eng- 
land and  America  his  influence  has  been  slight 
because  there  has  never  been  a  translation,  or  even 
adequate  interpretation,  of  his  important  books. 
While  applying  his  experiments  exclusively  to 
opera,  he  arrived  at  certain  conclusions  which 
have  come  to  be  basic  principles  of  the  new  race 
of  theatre  artists:  that  the  realistic  and  painted- 
perspective  modes  of  stage  setting  are  impossible 
artistically;   that  there  must  be  unity  of  play, 

39 


The  Art  Theatre 

setting  and  action;  that  the  actor  is  the  fac- 
tor to  be  emphasized  within  this  unity — that  he 
and  not  a  trick  of  staging  must  be  the  centre  of 
the  picture;  and  finally,  that  lighting  can  be 
largely  utilized  as  the  uniting  force,  binding  to- 
gether all  the  elements  of  the  production,  by  pro- 
viding an  all-pervading  spiritual  atmosphere. 
The  emphasis  on  the  value  of  light,  and  the  in- 
sistence that  the  lighting  must  be  definitely  de- 
signed to  further  dramatic  meaning,  is  Appia's 
most  distinctive  contribution  to  the  new  staging. 

From  these  two,  Craig  and  Appia,  the  art  thea- 
tre movement  may  be  considered  to  start.  Of 
those  who  helped  shape  it,  of  those  who  added  to 
the  mass  of  theory,  or  proved  or  disproved  this 
or  that  theory  in  practice,  I  shall  say  little  ex- 
cept as  they  happen  to  be  concerned  in  four  play- 
houses: the  Munich  Art  Theatre,  the  Moscow 
Art  Theatre,  Max  Reinhardt's  Deutsches  Theater 
and  the  Abbey  Theatre  in  Dublin.  I  am  con- 
scious that  this  is  an  arbitrary  choice ;  but  I  think 
that  these  offer  in  their  beginnings  the  nearest 
parallel  to  our  beginnings  in  America^  and  in 
their  achievement  the  most  suggestive  of  ways 
in  which  we  should  grow. 

To  indicate  the  breadth  of  the  new  spirit,  how- 
ever, it  is  well  to  remember  that  France  claimed 
one  of  the  first  experiments  in  the  new  field,  in 
40 


The  Coming  of  the  Art  Theatre 

the  establishment  of  the  Theatre  de  I'CEuvre  in 
1893  as  a  sort  of  artists'  protest  against  natural- 
ism; that  Jacques  Rouche  made  sincere  efforts 
to  realize  the  synthetic  art-theatre  ideal  at  his 
Theatre  des  Arts  in  Paris;  and  that  Jacques 
Copeau  did  some  of  the  most  important  of  all 
pioneering  work  at  his  Theatre  du  Vieux  Colom- 
bier.  But  these  and  the  English  ventures  are 
less  important  than  the  four  chosen  for  more  ex- 
tended description. 

in 

The  famous  Moscow  Art  Theatre  was  founded 
under  circumstances  strikingly  like  those  sur- 
rounding the  beginnings  of  the  most  important 
little  theatres  in  this  country.  The  group  orig- 
inating the  venture  was  more  amateur  than  pro- 
fessional, and  its  object  was  definitely  to  explore 
regions  untouched  by  the  regular  theatres.  It 
was  distinctly  a  reform  theatre,  and  like  most  of 
its  kind  it  utilized  at  first  amateur  actors  and 
students,  and  sought  its  designers  in  the  fields  of 
the  other  arts. 

After  renouncing  the  ideals  of  the  commercial 
theatre,  and  its  methods  of  playwriting,  acting 
and  stage  setting,  it  turned  first  to  the  explora- 
tion and  exploitation  of  realism.  It  sought  to 
create  the  illusion  of  life  by  detailed  imitation. 

41 


The  Art  Theatre 

The  experience  was  valuable  in  ridding  the  thea- 
tre of  the  old  artificiality  of  acting,  and  in  ex- 
posing the  f  aultiness  of  current  modes  of  staging. 
But  naturalism  and  uninspired  realism  soon 
proved  unequal  to  the  demands  of  a  typical  art 
theatre  organization. 

When  the  Moscow  Art  Theatre  started  its 
search  for  the  imaginative,  the  lyrical,  the  poetic, 
and  the  symbolic,  instead  of  seeking  mere  truth 
to  life,  it  began  to  justify  its  name.  At  the 
same  time  it  began  to  seek  actively  that  synthesis 
of  forces  which  is  the  most  distinctive  mark  of 
art-theatre  production,  aiming  to  bring  play,  ac- 
tion, lighting  and  setting  into  a  spiritual  unity. 
It  was  not  always  successful,  since  one  hears  re- 
ports of  decorations  that  outdid  the  actors,  and 
of  Shakespeare  plays  that  had  ceased  to  be  Shake- 
spearean ;  but  the  productions  as  a  group  went  far 
to  prove  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  distinguish- 
able art-theatre  technique,  a  method  that  is  at 
once  a  simplification  and  an  intensification  of  the 
drama,  a  creative  contribution  on  the  part  of 
director,  actors  and  designers,  which  throws  a 
spiritual  atmosphere  over  the  play  as  presented 
in  the  theatre. 

A  third  phase  brought  the  Moscow  playhouse 
to  a  broader  basis,  where  it  followed  neither  the 
realistic  nor  the  symbolistic  or  idealistic  alone, 
42 


The  Coming  of  the  Art  Theatre 

but  sought  to  harmonize  the  best  it  had  found 
in  both  directions  of  its  early  search.  It  may  well 
be  that  the  drama  of  the  future  lies  in  a  com- 
promise between  these  two  ideals,  or  rather  in  a 
fusing  of  the  intense  life-truth  of  the  one  with 
the  spiritualizing  idealism  of  the  other.  It  may 
be,  indeed,  that  the  Moscow  Art  Theatre  has  made 
its  greatest  contribution  to  modern  art  through 
its  experiments  in  search  of  an  enlightened  and 
spiritualized  realism. 

But  the  points  which  should  most  interest  Amer- 
ican progressives  are  these:  A  non-star  organ- 
ization was  brought  into  being,  in  which  the  ac- 
tors studied  and  worked  intelligently  and  har- 
moniously together,  while  always  obedient  to  an 
enlightened  artist-director.  The  theatre  is  effi- 
ciently administered  as  a  profitable  business  ven- 
ture, but  businessmen  have  nothing  to  say  about 
types  of  play  or  methods  of  staging,  and  the  pro- 
ject is  not  subject  to  shifting  this  way  or  that 
for  the  sake  of  profits.  The  administration  is 
three-fold :  first,,  a  holding  group  which  includes 
men  of  high  ideals  and  artists  of  broad  insight; 
second,  a  body  of  actors  who  are  willing  (and 
can  afford)  to  accept  a  moderate  wage  because 
they  love  their  work  and  enjoy  permanent  em- 
ployment ;  and  third,  an  artist-director  and  a  busi- 
ness secretary  who  are  free  from  interference  by 

43 


The  Art  Theatre 

each  other  or  from  above  so  long  as  they  produce 
results  satisfactory  to  the  enlightened  holding 
group.  While  preserving  an  experimental  ideal, 
the  theatre  has  arrived  at  a  type  of  production 
which  brings  play,  action  and  setting  into  one 
harmonious  whole.  It  has  developed  artists  who 
have  gone  out  to  help  revolutionize  theatres  for- 
merly devoted  to  commercial  ideals.  And  finally 
it  has  refused  to  be  satisfied  with  a  building  and 
equipment  inadequate  to  the  requirements  of  a 
broadly  artistic  type  of  production;  the  architec- 
ture is  restful,  and  the  mechanical  features  afford 
the  widest  opportunity  for  the  subtler  effects  of 
staging. 

The  Munich  Art  Theatre  has  often  been  held 
up  as  a  model  architecturally,  and  I  wish  to  em- 
phasize here  certain  relationships  between  such 
a  building  and  the  development  of  the  new  art 
of  the  theatre.  Our  American  theatres  are  no- 
toriously vulgar,  and  it  is  doubtful  whether  the 
insurgent  movement  in  this  country  will  not  lag 
until  we  have  a  group  of  playhouses  that  are  in 
harmony  with  the  spirit  of  dramatic  art  at  its  best. 
Many  visitors  to  the  Munich  Art  Theatre,  accus- 
tomed to  American  and  English  vulgarity,  or  to 
French  ornateness,  have  testified  to  the  remark- 
able sense  of  restfulness  experienced  upon  enter- 
ing the  Art  Theatre.  In  such  an  atmosphere  the 
44 


The  Coming  of  the  Art  Theatre 

spectator  is  immediately  put  into  a  state  of  re- 
ceptivity, and  the  producer's  battle  to  create  a 
spiritual  mood,  a  single  harmonious  impression, 
is  already  partially  won.  This  sympathetic  sort 
of  architecture,  no  less  than  equipment  of  the 
most  modern  type,  is  necessary  to  a  full  realiza- 
tion of  the  new  ideal.  Imagine  Gordon  Craig 
in  the  average  Broadway  playhouse! 

But  the  Munich  Art  Theatre  is  important  for 
more  reasons  than  appear  in  its  architectural 
form — though  that  may  be  taken  as  symbolic 
of  an  all-pervading  artistic  thoroughness.  Its 
search,  to  quote  Huntly  Carter,  has  been  for 
"simplification,  synthesis,  rhythm  and  beauty" 
— and  such  aims  alone  set  it  apart  from  the  great 
mass  of  theatres.  It  seeks  to  "preserve  the  unity 
of  the  action  of  the  drama  in  co-operation  with 
sound,  colour,  motion."  One  limitation  should 
be  noted :  the  stage  was  built  too  shallow,  because 
the  directors  were  concerned  in  the  beginning  with 
a  too-narrow  conception  of  the  new  art  of  stag- 
ing— that  of  the  "relief -theatre."  The  pioneer 
work  accomplished  there,  nevertheless,  is  on  a 
level  with  that  of  the  Moscow  Art  Theatre,  in 
both  its  practical  and  its  inspirational  aspects. 

First,  the  impulse  for  its  founding  came  from 
without  the  old  theatre,  and  it  has  consistently 
utilized  the  talents  of  inspired  outsiders.     Sec- 

45 


The  Art  Theatre 

ond,  it  immediately  discarded  all  the  old  para- 
phernalia of  the  stage,  and  set  out  to  prove  that 
conventionalized  settings,  aided  by  simplicity, 
breadth  and  suggestion,  could  create  illusion  more 
satisfyingly  than  the  most  elaborate  imitations 
in  the  naturalistic  method.  Third,  it  stood  for 
synthesis  of  forces  on  the  stage,  but  with  the  em- 
phasis on  the  actors,  who,  besides  carrying  the 
story,  supplied  that  decorative  quality  which  was 
formerly  supposed  to  reside  in  the  setting  alone. 
Fourth,  the  efficacy  of  the  production  in  produc- 
ing artistic  effect,  the  art  value  as  distinguished 
from  the  mere  dramatic  value  or  acting  value  or 
spectacular  value,  was  discovered  to  be  depend- 
ent upon  style,  upon  the  imparting  of  an  all-per- 
vading feeling,  a  reflection  of  the  individual  gen- 
ius of  the  artists  concerned  in  the  staging.  And 
fifth,  while  it  remained  typically  a  theatre  of  the 
artists,  it  was  not  thereby  condemned  to  business 
mismanagement . 

The  Deutsches  Theater  in  Berlin  has  been  cited 
many  times  as  the  best  example  of  a  "practical 
art  theatre."  Broadway  managers  will  tell  you 
(or  would  have  told  you  before  admiration  of 
any  German  virtue  became  a  crime  before  the 
bar  of  a  war-blind  public)  that  the  reason  we  have 
not  such  theatres  in  America  is  that  no  such  en- 
lightened audience  exists  here  as  that  of  the  Ger- 
46 


The  Coming  of  the  Art  Theatre 

man  capital.  For  my  part  I  believe  that  the 
trouble  lies  in  the  lack  of  a  director  like  Max 
Reinhardt,  who  combines  business  genius  with  a 
comprehensive  knowledge  of  the  art  of  the  theatre. 
Such  a  director  would  immediately  find  the  means 
to  build  in  New  York  a  theatre  embodying  the 
German  architectural  ideal — there  is  no  possi- 
bility of  dodging  the  fact  that  it  is  the  best  in 
the  world  today — and  in  it  he  would  present  a 
series  of  plays  clearly  artistic  in  general  tone,  and 
yet  commercially  successful.  He  would  do  this 
because  he  would  be  an  opportunist,  with  an  eye 
to  his  public.  That  is,  he  would  vary  his  ex- 
periments and  his  productions  of  limited  appeal 
with  others  that  leaned  toward  the  tried  and  ac- 
cepted formulas;  and  he  would  add  enough  of 
sensationalism  to  be  sure  of  sufficient  audiences. 
Of  course  the  resultant  theatre  would  not  be  so 
typical  an  expression  of  the  movement  as  would 
a  playhouse  modelled  after  the  Moscow  Art  Thea- 
tre. It  would  be  a  compromise;  but  a  compro- 
mise like  the  Deutsches  Theater  would  be  infi- 
nitely better  than  anything  now  existing  in  New 
York. 

If  Max  Reinhardt  has  compromised  with  the 
older  theatre  and  with  the  public,  he  neverthe- 
less has  made  the  Deutsches  Theater  one  of  the 
most  notable  in  the  world,  and  in  many  ways  a 

47 


The  Art  Theatre 

model  for  progressives  everywhere.  His  stage 
is  as  completely  equipped  according  to  standards 
of  the  new  stagecraft  as  any  other  in  Europe, 
and  in  staging  and  choice  of  plays  he  has  been 
ready  to  accept  the  newest  ideas  for  trial.  He  has 
drawn  many  of  the  leading  German  designers 
and  painters  to  the  stage,  if  not  with  uniformly 
satisfying  results,  still  with  broadening  and  grati- 
fying effect  upon  both  the  theatre  and  the  artists 
concerned.  The  acting  of  his  company  is  one 
more  assurance  that  the  star-system  belongs  to 
a  lower  type  of  production,  and  that  only  with 
intelligent  ensemble  acting  can  the  best  be  accom- 
plished. And  if  some  of  his  productions  over- 
shoot the  mark,  there  still  is  evidence  in  the  suc- 
cess of  most  of  them  that  the  indispensable  factor 
is  thoroughness,  unity  attained  through  one  di- 
rector's all-seeing  genius. 

The  experience  and  achievement  of  one  other 
theatre  are  peculiarly  suggestive  when  examined 
beside  the  American  problem — not  so  much,  per- 
haps, in  relation  to  the  ultimate  American  art 
theatre,  but  as  a  guide  and  encouragement  in  our 
beginnings.  The  Abbey  Theatre  in  Dublin,  the 
theatre  of  the  Irish  Players,  was  founded  and  has 
continued  as  an  expression  of  the  amateur  spirit. 
Its  first  phase  was  "The  Irish  Literary  Theatre," 
an  ephemeral  institution  brought  into  being  by 
48 


The  Coming  of  the  Art  Theatre 

three  literary  artists,  Edward  Martyn,  W.  B. 
Yeats  and  George  Moore — typical  outsiders. 
After  the  Literary  Theatre's  short  career  closed, 
its  ideals  were  taken  up,  broadened  and  carried 
on  by  the  Irish  National  Theatre,  to  which  the 
chief  new  contribution  was  brought  by  another 
theorist,  in  the  shape  of  a  simplified,  distinguished 
mode  of  acting.  A  group  of  native  amateur  ac- 
tors under  the  direction  of  an  inspired  leader  be- 
gan that  career  which  has  carried  the  name  of  the 
Irish  Players  through  all  the  dramatic  world. 
Native  playwrights,  stimulated  to  effort  by  the 
opportunity  of  seeing  their  plays  sympathetically 
and  intelligently  produced,  wrote  dramas  of  not 
only  local  but  universal  appeal.  Other  new  im- 
pulses were  added,  the  most  important  perhaps 
being  that  of  Gordon  Craig's  simplified  methods 
of  staging — for  that  added  reform  of  scene  to  re- 
form of  playwriting  and  acting.  And  so  there 
came  into  being  an  Irish  theatre  in  which  the 
amateur  spirit  lived  under  professional  organi- 
zation, a  theatre  in  which  beauty  and  sincerity 
were  guiding  principles. 

The  economic  history  of  the  Irish  players  also 
holds  a  lesson  for  the  American  theatre.  The 
Dublin  project  struggled  along  at  first  in  rented 
halls  and  without  adequate  stage  facilities;  but 
at  a  critical  time  a  woman  of  wealth  recognized 

49 


The  Art  Theatre 

the  merit  of  the  workers,  remodelled  a  theatre, 
offered  it  rent-free  for  six  years,  and  provided  a 
small  subsidy.  It  reminds  us  that  most  of  the 
really  fruitful  art  schemes  find  outside  financial 
aid  in  the  years  of  struggle,  and  that  American 
little  theatres  must  find  several  wealthy  people 
with  Miss  Horniman's  insight  and  generous  ap- 
preciation before  the  impulse  toward  an  art  thea- 
tre can  find  full  expression. 

The  effect  of  the  art  theatres  on  the  general 
theatrical  situation  in  Europe  is  interesting,  al- 
though it  offers  no  direct  parallel  to  conditions 
in  America.  In  Germany  the  whole  country  has 
grown  with  the  movement,  and  it  is  not  unusual 
to  find  in  court  and  commercial  theatres  occa- 
sional or  even  frequent  productions  approaching 
art-theatre  ideals.  The  Germans  had  no  monop- 
olistic, utterly  commercialized  institution  to  fight 
against,  and  they  already  had  many  endowed 
playhouses.  Their  problem  now  is  merely  to  in- 
crease the  already  large  number  of  experienced 
and  inspired  artist-directors,  and  gradually  to  re- 
organize their  theatres  with  these  men  in  charge. 
France  too  has  its  endowed  state  and  municipal 
theatres,  but  it  has  profited  little  by  the  achieve- 
ment of  the  art-theatre  groups.  Indeed,  one 
would  say  that  France  had  resolved  to  remain 
ultra-conservative,  or  even  provincial,  so  far  as 
50 


The  Coming  of  the  Art  Theatre 

theatre  art  is  concerned,  were  it  not  for  two 
things:  the  existence  in  Paris  of  the  Theatre  du 
Vieux  Colombier,  founded  and  directed  by  the 
inspired  amateur  Jacques  Copeau;  and  the  un- 
expected and  revolutionary  appointment  in  1914 
to  the  directorship  of  the  Paris  Opera  of  Jacques 
Rouche,  an  arch-progressive.  In  England  the 
continental  art  theatres  have  had  immistakable 
influence  on  the  development  of  a  group  of  rep- 
ertory theatres  in  the  provinces — the  most  hope- 
ful sign  in  what  would  otherwise  appear  a  dra- 
matic waste.  These  repertory  theatres  not  only 
are  keeping  alive  the  best  heritage  of  the  realistic 
movement,  but  are  making  some  progress  toward 
the  art  theatre's  synthetic  methods  of  production. 
They  await  only  the  coming  of  a  race  of  artist- 
directors.  In  its  possession  of  such  theatres 
England  is  one  important  step  ahead  of  America. 

IV 

In  Europe  the  art  theatre  revolt  was  largely 
amateur,  but  it  had  its  professional  side  as 
well.  Its  leaders  were  as  likely  as  not  to  be 
secessionists  from  the  regular  theatre.  But  a 
business  despotism  begets  no  artistic  rebels — 
and  so  the  whole  new  movement  in  America  has 
developed  from  the  outside.  In  the  professional 
American  theatres  there  were  no  discerning  art- 

51 


The  Art  Theatre 

ists,  no  men  big  enough  to  understand  the  revo- 
lution in  Europe  and  to  strike  out  on  parallel 
lines  in  this  country.  It  remained  for  college 
groups  and  mere  theatre-lovers  to  divine  the 
significance  of  the  Craig-Reinhardt  phenomenon, 
and  to  begin  in  their  inexperienced  way  the  build- 
ing of  a  new  theatre. 

There  are  those  who  will  tell  you  that  the  en- 
dowed professional  art  theatre  has  been  tried  in 
America  and  has  failed — referring,  of  course,  to 
the  New  Theatre.  In  the  first  place  that  institu- 
tion was  not  endowed.  If  it  had  been,  the  build- 
ing would  still  be  given  up  to  experimenting  with 
art,  instead  of  being  dedicated  as  it  is  now  to 
the  most  pernicious  influences  in  the  American 
theatre,  capitalized  sex  appeal,  musical  trash  and 
general  Ziegfeldism.  In  the  second  place  the 
director  of  the  New  Theatre  venture,  Winthrop 
Ames,  although  he  stands  as  the  most  enlightened 
of  the  Broadway  managers,  has  never  quite 
grasped  the  art  ideal  in  its  finest  form.  He  was 
not  the  typical  artist-director.  In  certain  direc- 
tions he  did  wonders  at  the  New  Theatre,  partic- 
ularly in  the  building  up  of  a  group  of  actors  in- 
dividually capable  but  devoted  to  the  ensemble 
ideal — and  his  example  will  prove  of  value  later; 
but  he  failed  to  co-ordinate  the  departments  of 
52 


The  Coining  of  the  Art  Theatre 

staging  to  the  extent  of  obtaining  the  unity  of 
impression  so  typical  of  art-theatre  work.  But 
the  most  important  cause  of  the  New  Theatre's 
failure  to  establish  itself  as  an  integral  part  of 
American  art  life  lay  in  the  fact  that  it  tried  to 
begin  at  the  top,  in  imitation  of  the  most  preten- 
tious European  repertory  theatres.  It  was  never 
a  native  theatre,  with  roots  in  American  life  and 
with  native  experience  behind  it.  If  we  ever 
have  in  America  a  successful  institution  of  the 
aristocratic  sort  that  the  New  Theatre  was  in- 
tended to  be,  it  will  come  after  the  democratic, 
native  art  theatre  has  been  established  as  a  part 
of  American  cultural  life. 

Disregarding  also  Winthrop  Ames'  Little 
Theatre,  since  it  is  merely  the  most  artistic  of  the 
commercial  theatres — its  littleness  is  due  largely 
to  the  desire  to  evade  fire  regulations,  and  it  is 
a  typical  long-run,  non-democratic,  non-native 
business  theatre  of  the  best  sort — one  may  ask 
where,  specifically,  our  first  steps  toward  Ameri- 
can art  theatres  are  to  be  found.  The  spirit  of 
the  new  movement  is  to  be  detected  in  almost 
every  city  in  the  land,  and  little  theatres  are  mul- 
tiplying startlingly.  But  a  thorough  sifting 
leaves  most  of  them  in  the  offensively  amateurish 
class,  with  not  more  than  a  half-dozen  carrying 

53 


The  Art  Theatre 

the  best  of  amateur  ideals  up  to  a  union  with 
professional  standards  of  work.  Of  these  I  shall 
concern  myself  chiefly  with  three. 

First,  there  is  the  pioneer  Chicago  Little 
Theatre,  with  its  permanent  organization  which 
has  weathered  the  severest  storms,  and  which  in 
spite  of  a  curiously  unstable  position  in  its  com- 
munity has  succeeded  in  making  the  largest 
American  contribution  toward  an  art-theatre 
technique.  Second,  there  is  the  Arts  and  Crafts 
Theatre  in  Detroit,  which  is  less  securely  or- 
ganized for  the  future,  but  which  in  its  first  year 
has  made  America's  nearest  approach  to  a  season 
of  typical  art-theatre  productions  on  a  self-sup- 
porting basis.  Third,  there  is  the  Washington 
Square  Players  group,  which,  while  realizing  less 
clearly  the  ideals  of  the  art  theatre,  has  made 
many  notable  productions,  and  has  pioneered  by 
trying  out  new  methods  before  the  most  jaded 
public  in  the  world. 

In  addition  to  these  I  shall  have  something  to 
say  about  the  Neighborhood  Playhouse  in  New 
York,  the  Portmanteau  Players,  the  Province- 
town  Players,  the  Prairie  Playhouse  at  Gales- 
burg,  and  the  Wisconsin  Players,  all  important 
in  certain  connections,  but  none  quite  so  clearly 
accomplishing  significant  work  as  the  three  first 
named. 

54  '  ' 


The  Coming  of  the  Art  Theatre 


My  historical  work  is  done.  I  have  tried  so 
far  to  show  how  the  American  theatre  came  to  its 
present  distressing  position,  and  how  a  somewhat 
similar  condition  in  Europe  led  to  the  establish- 
ment of  art  theatres  as  a  natural  corrective.  I 
have  sketched  our  small  beginnings  and  have 
tried  to  suggest  the  direction  of  natural  growth 
toward  a  similar  corrective  in  this  country.  Now 
I  wish  to  explore  in  detail  the  changes  which 
have  already  come  and  those  which  are  implied 
in  the  art  theatre  movement,  trying  to  shadow 
forth  ideals,  describing  methods  of  production, 
and  outlining  systems  of  organization.  By  bas- 
ing my  deductions  on  the  experience  of  the  Euro- 
pean art  theatres,  and  by  linking  this  up  with 
what  has  been  learned  by  the  few  advanced  ex- 
perimental playhouses  in  America,  I  hope  to 
arrive  at  conclusions  which  will  help  to  stabilize 
the  whole  progressive  movement,  which  will  per- 
haps enable  workers  in  the  little  theatres  to  ar- 
rive at  a  clearer  conception  of  the  goal  we  all 
must  strive  for,  and  which,  finally,  may  inspire 
artists  and  playwrights  with  renewed  determina- 
tion and  renewed  desire  to  do  creative  work. 


55 


CHAPTER  III 

IDEALS    OF    THE    ART    THEATRE 

THERE  is,  I  believe,  a  distinguishing 
quality  by  which  the  typical  art  theatre 
production  can  be  marked  off  as  different 
from  the  ordinary  production  in  the  commercial 
theatre.  Call  it  spiritual  unity,  rhythm,  style — 
what  you  will — there  is  unmistakably  an  ear- 
mark of  higher  art  upon  it :  a  something  that  dis- 
tinguishes a  production  of  Craig  or  Reinhardt, 
of  Browne  or  Hume,  from  that  which  bears,  let 
us  say,  a  Shubert  or  K.  and  E.  label.  I  believe, 
moreover,  that  the  attainment  of  this  quality,  the 
development  of  artists  who  will  expend  their 
genius  to  bring  this  elusive  something  into  the 
playhouse,  is  the  most  important  problem  in  the 
theatre  world  today. 

I 

There  is  in  every  important  drama  a  latent  art 
value,  as  distinguished  from  dramatic  value,  or 
acting  value,  or  spectacular  value.     This  "over- 
value" is  to  be  realized  in  the  theatre  not  alone 
56 


Ideals  of  the  Art  Theatre 

by  a  synthesis  of  the  clearly  marked  elements  of 
staging — by  perfect  co-ordination  of  play,  acting, 
setting  and  lighting — but  also  by  the  spiritual 
transformation  of  the  whole  through  artistic 
vision.  This  implies  the  existence  of  a  director 
who  is  artist  enough  to  harmonize  the  provi- 
sional or  incomplete  arts  of  the  playwright,  the 
actor  and  the  scene  designer,  and  at  the  same  time 
develop,  by  a  creative  method  of  production,  an 
inner  rhythm,  an  impressionistic  unity. 

It  is  conceivable  that  a  certain  play  might  be 
presented  in  a  commercial  theatre  with  the  dra- 
matic "punch"  stronger,  the  acting  better  and  the 
settings  more  striking  than  in  a  presentation  of 
the  same  play  at  an  art  theatre,  and  that  the 
latter  production  would  still  be  the  more  interest- 
ing and  more  satisfying.  For  the  art-theatre 
method  would  impart  a  unity,  a  harmony  of  ele- 
ments and  a  stylistic  impression  which  the  other 
would  wholly  lack.  The  true  art  theatre  will, 
of  course,  have  better  acting  and  stronger  plays 
than  any  seen  in  the  commercial  theatres  today; 
but  the  existence  of  a  distinctive  art-theatre  man- 
ner of  production  explains  why  plays  put  on  by 
amateur  or  mediocre  professional  actors,  by  such 
organizations  as  the  Washington  Square  Players 
or  the  Chicago  Little  Theatre,  for  instance,  oc- 
casionally afford  finer  pleasure  than  that  usually 

57 


The  Art  Theatre 

experienced  in  the  best  commercial  playhouses. 

The  first  ideal  of  the  art  theatre,  then,  is  not 
merely  simplified  and  suggestive  settings,  or  en- 
semble acting,  or  poetic  plays;  it  is  the  attain- 
ment of  this  elusive  quality  which  makes  for 
rounded-out,  spiritually  unified  productions. 
Perhaps  the  best  name  for  it  is  the  synthetic 
ideal. 

As  it  concerns  the  dramatist  the  synthetic  ideal 
means  that  the  playwright  either  must  be  the  di- 
rector of  his  own  productions,  or  must  submit 
his  written  work  to  the  creative  processes  of  an 
artist-interpreter — ^just  as  in  music  the  composer 
must  leave  his  work  to  the  interpretation  of  a 
violinist,  or  pianist,  or  orchestra-director.  The 
artist-director,  if  he  be  not  the  playwright,  must 
in  turn  be  able  to  grasp  the  inner  rhythm  of  the 
dramatist's  work,  conceive  settings,  lighting,  act- 
ing, movement,  costuming,  etc.,  in  harmony  with 
that  rhythm,  and  at  the  same  time  stamp  the 
visual  result  with  his  own  individual  genius. 

As  it  concerns  the  actors,  the  scene-builders, 
the  electricians  and  the  other  workers  on  the  stage, 
it  means  that  they  must  always  be  obedient  to  the 
will  of  the  director,  working  sympathetically, 
"with  answering  minds,"  to  create  the  one  desired 
impression.  It  is  true  that  the  actor  may  enjoy 
a  certain  latitude  of  interpretation,  but  it  must 
58 


Ideals  of  the  Art  Theatre 

always  be  within  such  limitations  that  it  will  not 
disturb  the  ensemble  as  visualized  by  the  director. 

The  synthetic  ideal  is  big  enough  to  embrace 
many  creeds  of  playwriting  and  many  types  of 
play.  It  has  room  not  only  for  the  imaginative, 
poetic  and  symbolic,  but  for  the  realistic  and 
romantic.  The  synthetic  method  is  applied  most 
easily  to  plays  with  a  clearly  defined  "atmos- 
phere" about  them — the  plays,  say,  of  Maeter- 
linck or  Euripides  or  Dunsany;  but  it  is  possible 
to  apply  it  also  to  Ibsen,  to  Hauptmann,  to  Mase- 
field;  and  it  is  not  impossible  that  even  Shaw 
might  be  brought  by  this  method  more  completely 
into  the  theatre — although  as  yet  the  realistic 
drama  leans  too  far  toward  life  to  claim  an  un- 
disputed place  in  art-theatre  production. 

The  written  play  itself  confines  the  producing 
artist  within  certain  limits.  But  since  the  di- 
rector's work  is  creative,  since  he  reinforces  the 
poet's  conception  by  bringing  to  the  staging  an 
originality  of  his  own,  no  two  directors  will  ar- 
rive at  exactly  the  same  result:  each  will  impart 
his  own  distinctive  touch,  or  evoke  a  particular 
mood.  Thus  the  synthetic  result  always  bears 
the  stamp  of  the  personality  of  the  artist-director ; 
it  reflects  his  peculiar  manner  of  producing  the 
play  as  distinguished  from  the  manner  of  any 
other  producer,  and  it  reveals  the  quality  of  his 

59 


The  Art  Theatre 

individual  artistic  vision.  In  the  spiritual  "over- 
tone" it  bears  the  stamp  of  his  genius,  and  in  the 
technique  of  production  it  is  instinct  with  his 
"style." 

This  individual,  personal  element  prevents  the 
synthetic  ideal  from  ever  becoming  merely  the 
concern  of  an  over-specialized  group,  or  the  pur- 
suit of  a  single  theory  of  production.  If  any 
number  of  our  little  theatres  become  art  theatres 
— that  is,  start  definitely  and  intelligently  the 
search  for  the  principles  underlying  art-theatre 
technique — we  shall  have  as  many  types  of  syn- 
thetic production  as  there  are  artists  in  the  move- 
ment. 

n 

The  synthetic  ideal,  although  seldom  called  by 
that  name,  lies  behind  the  indeterminate  longing, 
theorizing,  and  actual  work  of  practically  all 
the  important  insurgents  of  both  Europe  and 
America. 

It  is  what  Adolphe  Appia  sought  when  he  tried 
to  create  an  "inner  unity"  for  the  Wagner  music- 
dramas  by  binding  the  setting  and  action  to  the 
music  through  atmospheric  lighting.  Taking  his 
pattern  of  moods  from  the  music,  he  designed 
a  series  of  lighting  effects  in  perfect  harmony  with 
the  emotional  and  spiritual  sequence  of  the 
60 


Ideals  of  the  Art  Theatre 

drama;  he  subordinated  the  settings  through 
simplification  and  by  throwing  over  them  a  veil 
of  light  or  darkness,  really  substituting  creative 
atmosphere  for  the  usual  painted  or  plastic  scene; 
and  he  intensified  the  action  by  cunning  manipu- 
lation of  light  and  shade,  playing  groups  of  ac- 
tors against  masses  of  shadows  and  bursts  of 
light,  or  half-revealing  them  in  foggy  greys. 
Appia's  great  contribution  to  the  modern  search 
for  an  art-theatre  technique  lies  in  what  he  taught 
later  artists  about  the  harmonizing  value  of  lights. 
The  synthesis  sought  by  Gordon  Craig  is  one 
in  which  movement  largely  takes  the  place  of 
psychological  action,  but  in  which  scene,  colour, 
lights,  voice  and  music  have  place.  In  order  to 
achieve  perfect  unity  of  these  various  elements, 
he  would  if  possible  have  the  artist-producer  be 
playwright,  designer  of  settings,  lighting  and  cos- 
tumes, and  composer  of  the  music,  as  well  as  di- 
rector. In  case  he  cannot  write  his  own  drama 
he  must  experience  a  complete  vision  of  the  origi- 
nal poet's  intention.  Craig  goes  farther  than  any 
other  leader  in  his  insistence  upon  the  absolute 
necessity  of  a  man  of  vision  in  the  director's  po- 
sition, and  he  would  give  that  man  the  greatest 
breadth  of  original  invention.  He  writes:  "I 
let  my  scene  grow  out  of  not  merely  the  play,  but 
from  broad  sweeps  of  thought  which  the  play 

61 


The  Art  Theatre 

has  conjured  up  in  me.  .  .  .  We  are  concerned 
with  the  heart  of  this  thing,  and  with  loving  and 
understanding  it.  Therefore  approach  it  from 
all  sides,  surround  it,  and  do  not  let  yourself  be 
attracted  away  by  the  idea  of  scene  as  an  end 
in  itself,  of  costume  as  an  end  in  itself,  or  of 
stage  management  or  any  of  these  things,  and 
never  lose  hold  of  your  determination  to  win 
through  to  the  secret — the  secret  which  lies  in  the 
creation  of  another  beauty,  and  then  all  will  be 
well." 

That  is  a  poet's  statement  of  the  art  theatre's 
problem  and  its  ideal:  "the  creation  of  another 
beauty"  while  "concerned  with  the  heart  of" 
the  dramatist's  play,  "and  with  loving  and  un- 
derstanding it."  In  solving  the  problem  Gordon 
Craig  came  to  many  radical  conclusions,  regard- 
ing subordination  of  setting,  repression  of  the 
personality  of  the  actor,  designed  movement,  and 
the  value  of  colour  and  light  in  creating  atmos- 
phere, which  have  since  become  commonplaces 
of  the  new  movement.  He  arrived  at  other  con- 
clusions that  have  been  slower  of  acceptance. 
Because  the  average  actor  was  unable  to  sink  his 
personality  entirely  in  that  of  the  character 
played,  because  he  could  not  make  himself  clay 
in  the  director's  hand,  Gordon  Craig  was  at  one 
time  ready  to  work  with  puppets  only.  And 
62 


Ideals  of  the  Art  Theatre 

when  he  was  pursuing  a  synthetic  art  of  the 
theatre  based  on  decorative  movement  of  figures, 
colours  and  lights,  he  was  ready  to  discard  the 
spoken  word,  since  it  seemed  to  be  an  interruption 
of  the  mood.  But  in  all  his  experiments,  through 
all  his  changing  theories,  the  chief  end  has  been 
the  creation  of  mood,  the  evoking  of  a  single  im- 
pression in  place  of  the  scattered  appeals  of  the 
usual  dramatic  production. 

Since  this  first  ideal  of  the  art  theatre,  this 
creation  of  another  beauty,  is  outwardly  visible 
only  in  the  setting,  the  lighting  and  the  method 
of  acting,  it  is  easy  for  the  shrewd  opportunist 
to  pick  up  the  external  features  and  achieve  a 
sort  of  caricature  of  the  true  art-theatre  produc- 
tion, without  grasping  the  secret  heart  of  the 
thing.  The  difference  between  the  old  sort  of 
production  and  the  new  seems  to  lie  entirely  in 
the  manner  of  staging;  and  so  the  astute  com- 
mercial manager  picks  up  a  few  mannerisms, 
gives  out  that  he  is  staging  in  the  new  method, 
and  draws  a  crowd. 

Even  so  eminent  a  director  as  Max  Reinhardt 
cannot  be  entirely  freed  from  the  charge  of  man- 
nerism: he  has  often  made  the  method  obtru- 
sively evident,  to  the  loss  of  the  original  author's 
intended  effect.  There  is  no  doubt  that  he  has 
achieved  a  unifying  system;  but  the  unity  often 

63 


The  Art  Theatre 

is  something  superimposed  by  Reinhardt,  and 
not  a  synthesis  growing  out  of  the  heart  of  the 
play. 

ni 

Stylization  in  its  broadest  sense  means  the  uni- 
fying of  the  play  by  carrying  a  definite  "style" 
through  all  parts  of  the  production.  In  this 
broad  interpretation  the  term  is  a  synonym  for 
synthetic  treatment.  Stylization  has  recently 
been  narrowed  by  many  writers  to  mean  the  ap- 
plication of  individual  style  to  the  play's  settings. 
But  even  when  the  unifying  process  is  thus  con- 
fined to  the  mise-en-scene,  it  is  still  a  powerful 
factor  in  imparting  continuity  and  singleness  of 
impression  to  the  production. 

It  happens  that  the  designing  of  appropriate 
settings  is  the  direction  in  which  all  countries 
have  made  greatest  progress  toward  the  new  ideal. 
The  artists  concerned  have  developed  certain  in- 
ventions which  are  definite  aids  to  the  attainment 
of  synthetic  effect.  New  lighting  systems  make 
possible  the  creation  of  atmospheric  effects  which 
are  delicately  attuned  to  the  most  subtle  emotional 
or  spiritual  values  of  the  play;  new  mechanical 
devices  make  possible  rapid  change  of  scene,  thus 
doing  away  with  the  long  between-acts  waits 
which  used  to  do  so  much  to  destroy  continuity 
64 


Ideals  of  the  Art  Theatre 

of  interest  and  mood;  and  adaptable  settings, 
wherein  certain  elements  remain  through  several 
changes  of  scene,  carrying  a  subconscious  sense 
of  oneness  through  several  scenes,  bring  a  new 
harmony  of  background.  Kenneth  Macgowan 
speaks,  for  instance,  of  "a  curious  unity"  achieved 
when  Joseph  Urban  used  a  permanent  "skeleton" 
setting  through  all  the  scenes  of  "The  Love  of  the 
Three  Kings."  And  William  Butler  Yeats  writes 
enthusiastically  of  a  lingering  "tone"  of  restful- 
ness  and  beauty  running  through  a  series  of  ar- 
rangements of  Gordon  Craig's  screens. 

It  may  be  that  through  the  search  for  the  ideal, 
through  applying  the  unifying  principle  to  the 
best  plays  we  now  know,  the  art  theatres  will  dis- 
cover new  forms  of  drama  more  beautiful  than 
any  so  far  developed.  Perhaps  that  decorative, 
typically  theatric,  de-humanized  art  which  many 
of  us  have  visualized  fleetingly  while  we  dreamed 
over  the  pages  of  Gordon  Craig's  essays  will  be- 
come a  reality  when  the  art-theatre  method  is 
studied,  played  with,  and  carried  to  its  most 
characteristic  achievement.  It  may  be  that 
Claude  Bragdon  will  realize  his  dream  of  an  art 
of  moving  colour;  or  that  Maurice  Browne  and 
Cloyd  Head,  already  pioneers  in  America's  pur- 
suit of  an  art-theatre  technique,  will  prove  that 
beyond  all  the  experiments  with  the  story-plays 

65 


The  Art  Theatre 

of  the  playwright  there  lies  a  sort  of  rhythmic 
art  of  the  theatre  as  yet  ungrasped  and  only 
half-guessed.  But  until  we  restore  artistic  unity 
to  the  stage,  until  we  fit  the  play  again  to  the 
theatre  and  learn  thereby  the  secret  of  unified 
impression — until,  in  short,  we  follow  up  the  first 
ideal  of  the  art  theatre,  synthetic  production — 
we  cannot  achieve  what  lies  beyond. 

IV 

Because  it  has  been  sadly  neglected  by  the 
commercial  playhouse,  a  second  ideal  of  the  art 
theatre  stands  out  clearly — a  minor  one,  when 
measured  beside  that  so  far  considered,  but  im- 
portant. It  is  the  experimental  ideal.  Recently 
a  group  of  little  theatres  has  come  into  existence 
devoted  entirely  to  the  trying  out  of  the  work  of 
beginning  playwrights  and  stage  decorators. 
The  most  important  example  is  the  playhouse  of 
the  Provincetown  Players.  Such  theatres  seldom 
make  any  claim  to  the  creation  of  finished  works 
of  art.  In  the  first  place  they  are  usually  crip- 
pled by  inadequate  stage  equipment;  in  the 
second  place  they  prefer  to  concern  themselves 
with  art  in  the  making  rather  than  with  the  pol- 
ished product.  There  is  a  legitimate  place  at 
present  for  such  theatres;  they  are,  indeed,  im- 
mensely important  because  they  offer  almost  the 
66 


Ideals  of  the  Art  Theatre 

only  laboratory  facilities  for  the  playwright  who 
refuses  to  play  the  game  in  the  commercial 
way. 

These  theatres  seem  to  me  to  be  a  sort  of  be- 
tween-times  expedient.  They  are  a  first  step 
toward  the  establishment  of  an  adequate  non- 
commercial theatre.  When  the  American  art 
theatres  are  built  on  their  foundations,  the  ex- 
perimental ideal  must  be  preserved;  but  all  the 
present  crudities  must  disappear  in  the  plays 
presented  before  a  public.  The  art  theatre  must 
be  a  show  place,  a  gallery  rather  than  a  studio. 
But  the  point  is  that  it  must  not  become  merely 
a  museum.  It  must  keep  in  touch  with  the  pres- 
ent and  the  future — as  most  European  endowed 
theatres  do  not,  to  their  present  dishonour.  It 
seems,  then,  that  the  art  theatre  must  have  its 
workshop  annex.  It  must  allow  the  author  who 
is  not  quite  ready  for  a  professional  production, 
facilities  for  seeing  his  play  acted  on  a  stage;  for 
he  will  learn  more  in  that  way  in  two  hours  than 
in  ten  years  of  studying  and  writing  in  his  library. 
The  Wisconsin  Players  already  have  their  work- 
shop stage,  whereon  members  try  out  their  plays 
before  carrying  them  out  to  larger  audiences ;  and 
the  Moscow  Art  Theatre  has  its  "studio"  for  the 
same  purpose.  Provision  for  such  a  feature 
should  be  made  in  every  art  theatre  plan. 

67 


The  Art  Theatre 

V 

A  third  ideal  which  every  art  theatre  should 
keep  before  it  is  that  of  sound  business  manage- 
ment. When  the  little  theatre  groups  righteously 
and  courageously  revolted  against  the  business 
monopoly  of  the  regular  theatre,  they  scorned  the 
good  as  well  as  the  bad  of  the  commercial  system. 
In  the  regular  theatre  the  artist  had  been  obscured 
in  the  business  man;  now  the  business  man  was 
lost  entirely  in  the  visionary  artist.  The  result 
has  been  a  notorious  series  of  financial  failures 
among  the  little  theatres.  The  fault  must  be 
corrected  before  the  change  to  the  estate  of  art 
theatre  can  be  made.  To  quote  Winthrop  Ames, 
it  is  necessary  "to  avoid  the  artistic  disadvantages 
of  purely  commercial  management,  and  still  to  re- 
main self-supporting" — which  is  to  say,  self- 
supporting  under  the  terms  of  whatever  endow- 
ment the  theatre  may  have.  Of  this  ideal  I  shall 
say  more  in  the  chapter  on  Organization  and 
Management. 

VI 

Many  little  theatres  have  set  up  what  they  call 

an  ideal  of  intimacy,  by  which  they  mean  that 

they  want  to  bring  the  audience  into  close  rapport 

with  the  actors  on  the  stage.     The  truth  is  that 

68 


Ideals  of  the  Art  Theatre 

no  production  in  the  theatre  is  good  until  it  does 
bring  a  sense  of  intimacy  to  the  spectator.  There 
are  spectacular  plays  which  may  be  fitted  for 
immense  stages  and  barn-like  auditoriums;  but 
any  play  which  has  to  do  with  the  art  theatre 
demands  a  representation  which  will  hold  the 
audience  in  spiritual  communion  with  what  tran- 
spires on  the  stage.  It  seems  to  me  that  this  sort 
of  play  can  be  as  intimately  produced  in  a  theatre 
seating  six  or  eight  hundred  people  as  in  one  seat- 
ing one  or  two  hundred.  The  ideal  of  intimacy 
is  really  included  in  what  I  have  called  the  syn- 
thetic ideal;  for  if  a  mood  is  created,  the  sympa- 
thetic reaction  will  come  as  readily  in  the  larger 
as  in  the  smaller  place. 

The  ideal  of  intimacy  has  even  been  destructive 
in  certain  little  theatres.  The  crowding  of  stage 
and  auditorium  has  destroyed  the  illusion,  the 
conventional  relation  of  artist  and  audience  by 
which  art  is  made  to  live.  The  spectator,  in- 
stead of  looking  at  the  action  through  a  frame 
and  accepting  the  convention,  and  so  being  freed 
to  imagine  himself  a  part  of  the  action,  is  pushed 
so  close  to  the  stage  that  he  is  continually  con- 
scious of  the  actors  as  people. 

I,  too,  want  to  bring  the  spectators  into  touch 
with  the  action  in  such  a  way  that  they  will  lose 
themselves  completely  in  the  beauties  revealed, 

69 


The  Art  Theatre 

and  that  their  souls  will  be  purged  by  their  ex- 
perience of  the  dramatic  story ;  but  it  seems  to  me 
that  many  of  the  devices  adopted  ostensibly  for 
this  purpose  are  likely  to  do  more  harm  than 
good.  I  am  not  even  convinced  that  the  apron 
stage  offers  any  considerable  advantages  except 
in  very  exceptional  cases,  and  I  am  totally  out 
of  sympathy  with  the  practice  of  bringing  players 
to  the  stage  through  the  auditorium.  The  Port- 
manteau Players'  placing  of  the  figures  of  Mem- 
ory, Prologue  and  You  in  the  audience  is  nothing 
more  than  a  bit  of  childishness,  and  Reinhardt's 
and  Ziegfeld's  processions  through  the  audi- 
torium are  merely  "stunts"  designed  to  attract  by 
their  novelty.  We  must  distinguish  more  clearly 
between  an  art  of  the  people — Percy  MacKaye's 
"civic  drama,"  in  which  masses  of  people  partici- 
pate— and  an  art  presented  by  artists  for  the  peo- 
ple to  enjoy  by  seeing  and  hearing.  The  latter 
sort  is  likely  to  be  more  intimate  than  the  other, 
and  nothing  is  to  be  gained  by  bringing  tag-ends 
of  the  performance  before  the  curtain-line.  It 
would  be  equally  logical  to  paint  the  edges  of  a 
picture  across  the  frame  with  extensions  to  the 
wall  on  either  side,  in  an  effort  to  increase  illu- 
sion. The  result  is  a  violation  of  the  law  of 
conventionalization,  of  the  tacit  understanding 
between  artist  and  spectator  that  the  one  shall 
70 


Ideals  of  the  Art  Theatre 

confine  his  illusion  within  certain  limits,  and  the 
other  accept  and  forget  the  limitation.  The  ideal 
of  intimacy  in  the  theatre  implies  not  an  exten- 
sion of  the  action  into  the  auditorium,  but  pro- 
jection of  the  mood  of  the  action  to  the  spectator 
by  means  of  an  all-sufficient  artistic  expression 
behind  the  curtain-line. 

vn 

When  one  realizes  all  that  the  synthetic  ideal 
implies,  it  becomes  very  clear  that  its  attainment 
is  impossible  in  the  commercial  theatres.  Not 
only  do  the  businessmen  who  monopolize  the 
regular  institution  lack  the  necessary  vision  and 
artistic  insight,  but  the  great  majority  of  business 
theatres  are  so  bad  architecturally  that  they  would 
be  impossible  bodies  for  the  soul  of  the  new  art. 
The  most  enlightened  of  the  commercial  pro- 
ducers, Winthrop  Ames,  with  his  finely  equipped 
and  wholly  charming  Little  Theatre,  might  by  a 
mere  change  of  policy  take  place  in  the  pioneer 
ranks  of  art  theatre  directors.  But  it  is  a  trans- 
formation possible  to  not  more  than  two  or  three 
of  those  now  engaged  in  the  gambling  game  on 
Broadway. 

What,  then,  will  be  the  relation  of  the  success- 
ful art  theatre  to  the  business  theatre?  So  long 
as  the  art  theatres  are  crippled  financially  and 

71 


The  Art  Theatre 

the  commercial  theatres  wealthy,  the  businessmen 
will  continue  to  take  many  of  the  best  actors  and 
decorators  developed  by  the  new  movement,  and 
they  will  buy  the  rights  to  Dunsany  plays  even 
though  they  cannot  stage  them  adequately.  Even 
after  the  art  theatres  are  properly  endowed  the 
theatre  speculators  will  doubtless  continue  to  take 
away  a  certain  number  of  ideas,  men,  and  oc- 
casionally plays,  as  they  are  proved  of  financial 
as  well  as  artistic  value.  But  the  art  theatre  as 
an  institution  should  be  so  firmly  established  that 
it  will  not  have  to  deal  with  the  commercial 
theatre  except  on  its  own  terms.  That  means 
that  America  must  have  sooner  or  later  a  group 
of  local  art  theatres  covering  every  city  of  im- 
portance from  coast  to  coast  ;^  so  that  a  play 
which  proves  its  worth  in  Chicago  can  immedi- 
ately be  prepared  for  presentation  by  the  artist- 
directors  at  the  local  theatres  of  Boston  and  San 
Francisco.     There  is  already  the  basis  for  such 

*  It  is  true  that  many  American  cities  now  have  stock  companies ; 
biit  these  are  in  no  sense  art  theatre  groups.  They  are  organized 
to  compete  with  the  commercial  travelling  companies,  and  their 
standards  in  choice  of  play  and  staging  fall  to  the  business  theatre 
level.  They  feel  that  they  must  be  in  the  high-rent  district,  and 
there  is  the  consequent  necessity  of  playing  eight  times  each  week 
and  making  weekly  changes  of  bill — thus  mercilessly  overworking 
the  actor  and  leaving  ragged  ends  in  staging.  The  average  Amer- 
ican stock  theatre  is  characterized  by  haste  and  compromise  of  art 
for  profit. 

72 


Ideals  of  the  Art  Theatre 

an  exchange,  plays  which  are  J&rst  tried  out  by  the 
Provincetown  Players,  for  instance,  being  seen 
later  on  the  stage  of  the  Washington  Square 
Players,  and  then  going  by  little  theatre  channels 
to  St.  Louis,  Detroit  and  other  centres. 

Nothing  will  be  able  to  prevent  New  York  from 
sending  its  endless  stream  of  revues,  musical 
comedies  and  plays  of  the  moment's  mode,  with 
their  "second"  companies,  to  the  road  towns. 
But  it  is  likely  that  on  the  road  there  will  come  a 
clear  separation  of  the  art  of  the  theatre  from  the 
amusement  business;  and  the  events  that  have  to 
do  with  dramatic  art  will  centre  at  the  native 
playhouse.  A  typical  art-theatre  production  may 
occasionally  go  into  the  commercial  circuit,  but 
it  will  be  the  exception.  This  is  true  not  only  on 
account  of  the  artistic  short-sightedness  of  man- 
agers and  workers  in  the  majority  theatre,  but 
because  the  art-theatre  play  by  its  very  nature  is 
unsuited  to  quick  transportation,  hasty  installa- 
tion and  the  interpretation  of  commercially 
trained  actors.  The  distinguishing  mark — the 
sense  of  unity,  the  subtlety  of  mood,  the  attain- 
ment of  the  primary  synthetic  ideal — demands  a 
theatre  and  a  drama  of  its  own. 


73 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   ARTIST-DIRECTOR 

THE  one  figure  about  which  the  activity  of 
an  art  theatre  centres  is  that  of  the  artist- 
director.  He  it  is  who  gives  the  theatre 
its  individuality  and  its  place  in  the  art  world. 
When  one  thinks  of  the  Moscow  Art  Theatre  the 
name  of  Stanislavsky  immediately  comes  to  mind, 
and  the  Deutsches  Theater  just  as  inevitably  sug- 
gests Reinhardt.  Similarly,  our  own  nearest  ap- 
proaches to  the  art  theatre  type  are  directly  as- 
sociated with  the  names  of  directors :  the  Chicago 
Little  Theatre  is  clearly  an  outgrowth  of  the  ar- 
tistic vision  of  Maurice  Browne,  and  the  Arts  and 
Crafts  Theatre  is  definitely  stamped  with  the 
personality  of  Sam  Hume.  The  whole  ideal  of 
the  art  theatre,  indeed,  is  such  that  it  demands  as 
the  first  step  toward  its  attainment  the  training 
of  a  race  of  such  artists  of  the  theatre. 


The  man  who  has  led  the  fight  for  a  new  or- 
ganization of  the  theatre  is  Gordon  Craig,  and 
74 


The  Artist-Director 

it  was  he  who  first  insisted  that  the  cure  for  pres- 
ent evils  could  come  only  with  the  development  of 
a  new  type  of  theatre  artist,  a  creative,  all-seeing, 
omnipotent  director.  In  a  frequently  quoted 
passage  which  has  become  a  classic  among  ad- 
vanced thinkers  in  the  theatre  he  has  indicated  the 
need  for  artist-directors: 

"I  have  many  times  written  that  there  is  only 
one  way  to  obtain  unity  in  the  art  of  the  theatre. 
I  suppose  it  is  unnecessary  to  explain  why  imity 
should  be  there  as  in  other  great  arts;  I  sup- 
pose it  offends  no  one  to  admit  that  unless  unity 
reigns  'chaos  is  come  again.'  .  .  .  And  now 
I  wish  to  make  clear  by  what  process  unity  is 
lost. 

"Let  me  make  a  list  (an  incomplete  one,  but  it 
will  serve)  of  the  different  workers  in  the  theatre. 
When  I  have  made  this  list  I  will  tell  you  how 
many  are  head-cooks  and  how  they  assist  in  the 
spoiling  of  the  broth. 

"First  and  foremost,  there  is  the  proprietor  of 
the  theatre.  Secondly,  there  is  the  business  man- 
ager who  rents  the  theatre.  Thirdly,  there  is  the 
stage-director,  sometimes  three  or  four  of  these. 
There  are  also  three  or  four  business  men.  Then 
we  come  to  the  chief  actor  and  the  chief  actress. 
Then  we  have  the  actor  and  the  actress  who  are 
next  to  the  chief;  that  is  to  say,  who  are  ready 

75 


The  Art  Theatre 

to  step  into  their  places  if  required.  Then  there 
are  from  twenty  to  sixty  other  actors  and  actresses. 
Besides  this,  there  is  a  gentleman  who  designs 
scenes.  Another  who  designs  costumes.  A  third 
who  devotes  his  time  to  arranging  lights.  A 
fourth  who  attends  to  the  machinery  (generally 
the  hardest  worker  in  the  theatre).  And  then  we 
have  from  twenty  to  a  hundred  under-workers, 
scene-painters,  costume  makers,  limelight  manip- 
ulators, dressers,  scene-shifters,  under  machinists, 
extra  ladies  and  gentlemen,  cleaners,  program 
sellers:  and  there  we  have  the  bunch. 

"Now  look  carefully  at  this  list.  We  see  seven 
heads  and  two  very  influential  members.  Seven 
directors  instead  of  one,  and  nine  opinions  in- 
stead of  one. 

*'Now,  then,  it  is  impossible  for  a  work  of  art 
ever  to  be  produced  where  more  than  one  brain 
is  permitted  to  direct;  and  if  works  of  art  are  not 
seen  in  the  theatre  this  one  reason  is  a  sufficient 
one,  though  there  are  plenty  more. 

"Do  you  wish  to  know  why  there  are  seven 
masters  instead  of  one?  It  is  because  there  is  no 
one  man  in  the  theatre  who  is  a  master  in  himself, 
that  is  to  say,  there  is  no  man  capable  of  invent- 
ing and  rehearsing  a  play:  capable  of  designing 
and  superintending  the  construction  of  both 
scenery  and  costume:  of  writing  any  necessary 
76 


The  Artist-Director 

music:  of  inventing  such  machinery  as  is  needed 
and  the  lighting  that  is  to  be  used. 

"No  manager  of  a  theatre  has  made  these 
things  his  study ;  and  it  is  a  disgrace  to  the  West- 
ern theatre  that  this  statement  can  be  made." 

In  order  to  obtain  unity,  then,  in  order  to 
stamp  a  theatre  production  with  the  vision  char- 
acteristic of  all  true  works  of  art,  Gordon  Craig 
wants  a  director  who  is  master  at  one  and  the 
same  time  of  playwriting,  staging,  costume  and 
setting  design,  musical  composition,  and  lighting. 
This  super-artist  would  stage  his  production  with 
no  other  helpers  than  skilled  workmen.  I  wish 
that  I  could  have  faith  in  the  birth  of  a  race  of 
such  artists;  but  I  think  that  one  such  genius 
in  a  century  is  a  generous  estimate  of  the  prob- 
able world  output.  If  we  are  to  go  on  to  any 
sort  of  achievement  in  our  generation  or  the  next, 
it  is  probable  that  we  shall  have  to  violate  Craig's 
principle  to  the  extent  of  separating  the  functions 
of  playwright,  director  of  staging,  and  composer 
of  the  music.  These  three  men  must  be  made  to 
work  together  in  what  may  be  called  group-crea- 
tion ;  but  there  is  not  in  the  world  today  one  man 
combining  in  himself  the  talents  necessary  to  dis- 
charge the  triple  creative  duty  satisfactorily. 
Nor  does  it  seem  to  me  entirely  necessary  that  the 
artist-director  should  be  able  to  write  his  own  play 

77 


The  Art  Theatre 

and  compose  the  incidental  music.  If  he  is  able 
to  visualize  the  play  in  its  deeper,  spiritual  as- 
pect— if  he  is  able  to  find  its  secret  heart,  and 
love  and  understand  it,  if  I  may  so  paraphrase 
Craig's  own  words;  if  he  is  then  able  to  do  all 
the  creative  work  involved  in  staging  and  re- 
hearsing it;  and  if  he  finally  is  able  so  to  inspire 
a  composer  with  the  feeling,  the  mood,  of  the  in- 
tended production  that  the  latter  will  invent  inci- 
dental music  in  harmony  with  the  other  elements : 
then  he  comes  as  close  to  Craig's  ideal  as  one  can 
expect  in  a  practical  world.  And  that  will  be 
close  enough  to  secure  the  salvation  of  the  theatre 
as  an  art. 

n 

While  thus  desiring  to  soften  Craig's  dictum, 
I  do  not  wish  to  get  so  far  away  from  it  as  does 
that  keen  critic  and  stimulating  writer,  Huntly 
Carter.  In  his  interesting  book  about  Max  Rein- 
hardt  he  outlines  a  theory  of  co-operative  produc- 
tion, under  which  the  director  is  to  be  only  a 
leader  in  a  group  of  creative  artists,  including 
playwright,  stage  manager,  designer  of  settings, 
and  so  on.  I  wish,  nevertheless,  to  quote  Car- 
ter's words  at  some  length,  if  only  to  reinforce 
Craig's  ideas  about  unity  and  direction  as  funda- 
mental principles: 
78 


The  Artist-Director 

"Nowhere  is  the  theatre  equipped  or  organized 
to  give  the  widest  expression  to  the  drama  of  the 
soul.  As  it  stands  it  is  quite  unable  to  serve  as  a 
house  of  vision.  All  that  it  can  do  is  to  show 
artistic  intention,  give  hints,  throw  out  sugges- 
tions, offer  scraps  of  vision  and  imaginative  in- 
terpretation, turn  out  pretty  odds  and  ends  of  pic- 
tures, wonderfully  pretty  bits  of  imagination, 
wonderfully  ugly  bits  of  so-called  realism,  won- 
derfully deft  bits  of  stagecraft.  But  nothing  it 
has  done  or  can  do  in  its  present  condition  has 
brought  it  or  brings  it  within  measurable  distance 
of  producing  the  complete  vision,  the  design  of 
the  poet  filled  in  by  answering  minds,  unified  and 
vital  in  all  respects.  .  .  . 

"The  demonstrable  fact  is  that  the  theatre  al- 
ways has  been,  and  is  still,  a  vastly  inferior,  im- 
perfect, and  disjointed  instrument  of  dramatic 
expression.  In  England  especially  is  this  true. 
There  the  surroundings  of  the  theatre  are  gro- 
tesque and  degrading;  its  construction  is  bad,  its 
form  obsolete,  its  design  and  decoration  serve 
neither  to  preserve  the  gravity,  dignity,  nor  sim- 
plicity of  beauty.  Its  auditorium  is  rudimen- 
tary; its  three-sided  stage  belongs  properly  to  the 
Stone  Age;  and  its  lighting,  scenery,  properties, 
and  other  mechanical  aids,  though  effective  on 
occasion,  never  escape  the  suspicion  of  being  what 

79 


The  Art  Theatre 

they  are — theatre  stuff.  And  if  the  temple  is  im- 
perfect, its  priests,  as  Mr,  Craig  rightly  main- 
tains, are  imperfect  also.  If  the  construction  and 
mechanical  contrivances  of  the  theatre  are  crude 
and  bad,  the  human  directing,  controlling,  and 
interpreting  force  is  not  much  better.  It  lacks 
unity.  In  short,  the  great  number  of  units  en- 
gaged in  the  work  of  the  production  of  a  play 
are  not  properly  organized  as  a  body  to  give  that 
play  the  widest  and  most  complete  expression. 
They  have  not  a  vision  in  common,  but  they  in- 
terpret each  in  his  own  way.  As  a  rule  they  are 
a  spineless  and  disjointed  crew,  without  the  faint- 
est conception  of  a  possible  unity.  .  .  . 

"The  new  and  significant  thing  in  the  theatre 
is  the  expression  of  the  Will  of  the  Theatre  by 
co-ordinated  minds,  each  artist  taking  the  keenest 
interest  in  promoting  the  artistic  work  of  the 
theatre,  each  artist  desiring  to  attain  the  best 
effect,  not  only  for  his  own  sake,  but  also  for 
that  of  his  fellow  artists.  This  is  what  may  be 
called  the  expression  of  the  Will  of  the  Theatre. 
It  is  individual  and  collective  striving  of  the 
highest  degree.  Each  artist  wills  to  attain  his 
best  individual  effect,  yet  wills  to  attain  the  same 
end  as  the  other  members  of  his  group,  an  end 
which  only  collective  volition  can  assure.  Thus 
the  Will  of  the  Theatre  springs  from  a  common 
80 


The  Artist-Director 

action  and  a  common  sentiment,  the  love  of  the 
artist  for  the  theatre,  and  its  function  is  to  give 
the  widest  expression  to  the  Will  of  the  author. 
Thus  Max  Reinhardt  interrogates  the  alternative 
which  Mr.  Craig  puts  forward.  Apparently  he 
has  no  sympathy  with  the  Napoleonic  tyranny, 
and  aims  to  replace  Mr.  Craig's  seven-headed 
director  by  a  seven-headed  group  of  sympathetic 
and  efficient  artists  who  will  together  produce 
something  as  great  and  individual  as  a  Gothic 
Cathedral,  with  all  its  parts  so  powerfully  and 
perfectly  willed  that  its  infinite  worth  is  apparent 
to  the  least  of  men." 

The  trouble  with  this  sort  of  collective  produc- 
tion is  that  artists — at  least  those  who  are  original 
enough  to  count — find  it  difficult  to  work  together 
harmoniously.  Usually  it  is  a  case  of  one  being 
strong  enough  to  intimidate  the  rest,  and  thus  able 
to  "spread"  his  department  at  the  expense  of  the 
others;  or  else  the  group  breaks  up  in  a  row. 
Unless  there  is  the  utmost  sympathy  between  the 
several  artists,  moreover,  there  is  great  danger 
that  the  old  lack  of  co-ordination  will  creep  in: 
the  stage-manager  will  conceive  the  play  in  one 
mood,  the  chief  actor  in  another,  and  the  scene- 
designer  in  a  third,  and  everybody's  teeth  will  be 
set  on  edge  when  the  opening  night  comes. 

Huntly  Carter's  ideas  about  collective  produc- 

81 


The  Art  Theatre 

tion  were  clearly  designed  to  fit  Max  Reinhardt's 
system.  For  Reinhardt  is  not  a  creative  artist  in 
Craig's  sense;  he  is  a  very  intelligent  organizer 
who  leaves  the  creative  processes  to  others  in  the 
group  of  which  he  is  leader.  Each  member  of 
the  group  is  supposed  to  be  "a  related  part  of  the 
complete  interpretative  mind."  But  the  student 
of  Reinhardt's  work  soon  discovers  that  he  is  by 
no  means  uniformly  successful  in  harmonizing 
and  relating  the  several  elements.  The  fame  of 
his  productions  rests  more  upon  the  even  accom- 
plishment of  his  excellent  acting-machine,  and 
upon  the  pictorial  splendor  of  some  of  the  settings 
designed  by  "his  artists,"  than  upon  attainment 
of  an  artistic  unity  within  each  play.  He  has 
brought  together  the  most  remarkable  group  of 
managers,  actors,  artist-designers,  and  workmen 
ever  associated  in  one  theatrical  project;  but  he 
has  yet  to  prove  that  the  collective  creation  of 
such  a  group,  when  directed  by  an  organizer 
rather  than  an  artist,  can  have  the  same  distinct- 
ive, all-pervading  atmosphere  as  the  productions 
of  a  true  artist-director. 

m 

Gordon  Craig  wants  an  artist-ruler  who  will 
not  yield   to   his   helpers   any   of  the   creative 
processes,  and  who  will  rule  his  workers  as  an 
82 


The  Artist-Director 

autocrat;  Huntly  Carter  wants  free  expression 
in  a  group  of  artists,  with  merely  an  organizer  to 
hold  the  group  together.  It  is  probable  that  the 
practical  ideal  lies  between  the  two  views. 

My  own  idea  of  the  probable  working-out  of 
the  matter  is  this:  the  theatre  will  accept  Craig's 
figure  in  his  general  aspect  of  artist-ruler,  but 
will  free  him  from  the  necessity  of  writing  his 
own  play  and  music.  This,  it  seems  to  me,  is 
possible  because :  first,  the  playwright's  work  is  in 
a  sense  a  finished  product,  and  there  is  no  danger 
of  a  clash  over  it — his  script  is  the  starting  point, 
and  the  director  is  free  to  take  it  or  leave  it;  and 
second,  music  is  so  much  an  art  of  mood  that 
the  composer,  once  understanding  the  require- 
ment, is  extremely  unlikely  to  produce  a  score  out 
of  keeping  with  the  playwright's  intention  or  the 
director's  conception.  These  two  points  aside, 
I  believe  that  Craig's  described  artist  of  the 
theatre  must  and  will  be  realized  before  we  can 
have  an  art  theatre  worthy  of  the  name.  He  will 
combine  the  creative  offices  of  the  following 
"artists"  of  the  existing  theatre:  director,  stage-  ^ 
manager,  designer  of  settings,  designer  of  cos- 
tumes, designer  of  lighting.  For  the  work  of 
these  men  is  such  that  disarrangement  in  one  di- 
rection means  disarrangement  in  all  the  others. 

He  must  feel  the  production  in  all  its  parts,  \, 

2>Z 


The  Art  Theatre 

and  he  must  then  have  power  to  confirm  or  veto 
\  the  contributions  brought  forward  by  those  in 
the  departments  of  Hghting,  acting  and  setting. 
But  he  does  not  necessarily  have  to  do  the  work  of 
all  these  men;  indeed,  he  would  be  foolish  not  to 
simplify  his  own  task  by  turning  over  to  helpers 
such  tasks  as  their  capabilities  fit  them  to  do. 
The  distinction,  perhaps,  should  be  one  based  on 
imagination.  His  must  be  the  imaginative  con- 
ception of  the  effects  to  be  created  in  each  de- 
partment. This  leaves  to  actor  and  stage  as- 
sistants freedom  for  self-expression  within  cer- 
tain limits,  but  never  to  the  extent  of  violating 
the  mood  of  the  whole  as  established  by  the  di- 
rector. 

The  theory  concerning  the  artist-director  has 
come  to  such  general  acceptance  among  thinking 
people  that  one  very  seldom  hears  argument 
against  it  except  from  those  who,  for  business 
reasons,  do  not  wish  to  see  the  theatre  led  out 
of  slavery.  But  occasionally  a  critic  insists  that 
the  principle  is  wrong  because  it  means  injecting 
a  second  artist  between  playwright  and  public. 
The  dramatist's  work,  the  argument  goes,  should 
be  put  on  the  stage  according  to  his  instructions  as 
put  down  in  the  stage  directions,  without  change. 
That  is  exactly  like  saying  that  a  musical  com- 
position should  be  played  as  it  is  printed  and 
84 


\ 


The  Artist-Director 

fnot  by  an  artist;  or,  in  other  words,  that  a  school- 
[  girl  with  reasonably  good  mechanical  control  can 
,  give  a  truer  rendering  of  the  composition  than  can 
a  Paderewski  or  a  Kreisler.  A  written  play, 
when  considered  not  as  literature  but  in  relation 
to  the  theatre,  is  no  more  a  completed  work  of  art 
than  is  a  music  score.  The  processes  of  acting, 
rehearsing,  and  designing  lighting  and  settings, 
are  creative;  and  unless  there  is  a  co-ordinating 
mind,  a  binding  artistic  sense,  the  production 
will  be  as  expressionless,  as  incoherent,  as  the 
school-girl's  playing. 

IV 

The  theatre  of  the  past  has  seldom  if  ever 
known  the  artist-director.  What  he  brings,  a 
synthesis  of  the  arts,  co-ordination  of  the  depart- 
ments of  the  playhouse,  is  modernity's  contribu- 
tion to  the  theatre.  Certain  periods  in  history 
have  been  known  as  the  golden  ages  of  playwrit- 
ing;  others  are  celebrated  as  the  ages  of  great 
acting;  in  still  others  spectacle  reigned  supreme. 
Today  we  excel  in  none  of  these  contributive 
arts;  but  we  have  a  new  conception,  a  new  ideal 
of  a  perfect  harmony  of  them  all.  The  past  has 
been  willing  to  accept  an  incomplete  art  of  the 
theatre,  for  the  sake  of  verbal  poetry,  or  inspired 
acting,  or  beautiful  stage  pictures,  or  because, 

85 


The  Art  Theatre 

seeing  the  greater  ideal,  it  despaired  of  attaining 
it  with  the  imperfect  means  at  hand.  The  pres- 
ent, with  vastly  improved  methods  of  staging, 
has  the  ideal  almost  in  its  grasp — if  it  breeds  art- 
ists great  enough. 

Goethe  in  his  old  age  had  at  least  a  dim  vision 
of  a  new  art  and  of  a  new  type  of  artist  who 
would  be  its  master;  and  Wagner  had  a  very 
definite  conception  of  a  union  of  all  the  arts — 
but,  be  it  noted,  of  a  union  rather  than  a  syn- 
thesis. Then  came  Craig  and  Appia,  outlining 
the  new  theory  clearly  and  pointing  to  the  meth- 
ods of  practical  achievement.  After  them  fol- 
lowed a  few  men  who  approximated  the  artist- 
director  type — Stanislavsky,  Fuchs,  Starke — and 
a  host  of  more  or  less  competent  workers  seeking 
the  ideal,  some  rather  successfully  and  others  with 
half  understanding. 

Most  of  these  men  direct  theatres  in  Germany. 
The  German  regisseur  is,  indeed,  the  world's 
closest  approach  to  a  living  embodiment  of  Craig's 
super-artist.  He  seldom  has  more  than  a  small 
fraction  of  Craig's  own  inventive  ability,  and 
he  does  not  do  his  own  playwriting.  But  he  is 
usually  an  artist  of  taste,  and  his  special  work  is 
the  supervision  of  the  production  as  a  whole;  he 
is  charged  not  with  creative  work  in  one  depart- 
ment, but  with  creation  of  harmony  through  his 
86 


The  Artist-Director 

imaginative  contribution  to  every  department. 
He  is  a  master  of  lighting,  he  designs  the  settings, 
he  sets  the  tone  for  the  actors  and  supervises  their 
movements  and  speaking. 

But  the  German  regisseur  could  not  save  the 
American  theatre  to  art,  even  if  we  could  import 
him  at  pleasure.  Our  problems  are  different, 
and  we  must  begin  farther  back,  with  a  pioneer 
type  of  our  own.  Putting  aside  the  few  Broad- 
way producers  who  are  big  enough  artistically 
to  make  the  leap  from  commercial  managership 
to  art  theatre  directorship  when  the  appointed 
time  comes,  I  wish  to  write  at  some  length  of 
two  American  examples  of  the  artist-director  type 
who  have  developed  outside  the  regular  play- 
houses— ^Maurice  Browne  and  Sam  Hume. 


Perhaps  the  most  important  point  to  be  noted 
about  Sam  Hume  is  his  wide  knowledge  of  both 
theatres,  commercial  and  insurgent.  He  knows 
the  regular  game,  but  he  has  steadfastly  refused 
to  be  a  part  of  it  ever  since  he  first  caught  glimpses 
of  the  new  ideal.  He  has  the  cultural  back- 
ground which  the  average  person  in  the  com- 
mercial theatre,  whether  manager,  actor,  or  de- 
signer, lacks.  But  his  academic  tra'ining  was 
mixed  with  practical  work — he  did  not  swallow 

87 


The  Art  Theatre 

a  college  education  whole.  After  four  years  at 
a  far  Western  university  he  left  without  a  degree 
but  with  assets  which  many  a  graduate  has 
learned  to  envy  later :  experience  in  the  leadership 
of  men,  and  practical  training  in  the  work  he  in- 
tended to  follow.  For  he  had  acted  not  only  with 
amateur  groups,  but  with  visiting  professional 
companies,  and  he  had  helped  in  the  production 
of  plays  on  stages  both  indoors  and  out.  Then 
followed  his  brief  experience  in  the  commercial 
theatre,  beginning  in  America  and  ending  in  Eng- 
land. Travel  in  Europe  helped  to  convince  him 
of  the  cheapness  of  standards  existing  on  the 
English-speaking  stage,  but  it  was  not  until  he 
talked  with  Gordon  Craig  that  the  vision  of  a 
new  art  of  the  theatre  spread  before  him.  In 
the  months  during  which  he  worked  side  by  side 
with  Craig  he  learned  much  not  only  about  ideals 
but  about  the  methods  through  which  the  great- 
est of  the  progressives  hoped  to  revolutionize 
stage  art. 

By  way  of  maintaining  the  balance,  of  keep- 
ing his  grasp  on  that  which  the  usual  worker  in 
the  theatre  lacks,  Hume  returned  to  an  Ameri- 
can university  after  his  association  with  Craig, 
gaining  a  new  historical  and  theoretical  perspec- 
tive on  his  work,  and  incidentally  decorating 
himself  with  two  useless  degrees.  Then  followed 
88 


The  Artist-Director 

a  period  of  directing  amateur  and  semi-profes- 
sional groups.  But  it  was  in  1915  that  he  first 
came  to  wide  public  notice  through  an  extensive 
display  of  models  and  drawings  illustrating  mod- 
ern stagecraft,  which  he  assembled  and  exhibited 
in  Cambridge,  New  York,  Chicago  and  Detroit. 

By  that  time  Hume  had  the  combination  of 
qualifications  which  fitted  him  for  the  work  an 
artist-director  is  called  on  to  do.  First,  through 
his  broad  education  he  had  the  taste  which  en- 
abled him  to  distinguish  real  drama  from  the 
type  of  play  passing  current  on  Broadway. 
Second,  he  had  enough  practical  knowledge  of 
the  traditional  stage  to  be  able  to  choose  such 
existing  mechanical  devices  and  technical  aids 
as  might  be  of  use  in  a  theatre  constructed  ac- 
cording to  the  new  ideals.  And  third,  he  had 
become  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  new  spirit, 
and  had  studied  every  department  of  theatre  pro- 
duction— playwriting,  acting,  lighting,  setting, 
stage  management — in  reference  to  the  Craig- 
Appia-Reinhardt  ideal. 

When  Hume  was  called  to  Detroit  to  take 
charge  of  the  Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre  there,  he 
found  the  opportunity  to  test  and  prove  his  pow- 
ers as  combined  artist  and  director.  The  breadth 
of  his  work  is  illuminating  as  showing  what 
problems  the  pioneer  director  of  an  American  art 

89 


The  Art  Theatre 

theatre  is  likely  to  meet.  In  the  first  place  he 
worked  with  the  architects  of  the  Arts  and  Crafts 
building,  and  effected  modifications  of  the  stage 
plans,  which  resulted  in  the  creation  of  one  of 
the  best  little  theatre  stages  in  America.  He  de- 
signed the  lighting  equipment  and  supervised  its 
installation ;  and  he  designed  a  permanent  adapt- 
able setting,  including  a  modification  of  the 
plaster  "sky-dome." 

In  the  season's  productions  he  was  given  full 
charge  of  every  department  of  creative  work,  and 
while  he  enjoyed  the  co-operation  of  a  group  of 
enlightened  artists,  his  word  was  final  in  every 
questioned  detail.  If  he  did  not  choose  all  the 
plays,  it  is  at  least  certain  that  none  was  decided 
upon  without  his  approval.  He  individually  de- 
signed most  of  the  settings,  and  he  worked  per- 
sonally with  the  artists  whose  names  appeared  as 
designers  of  the  others.  He  worked  out  every 
lighting  effect.  He  tried  out,  and  helped  to  de- 
velop by  individual  training,  every  actor.  And 
he  rehearsed  every  play,  looking  after  all  those 
matters  of  movement,  gesture  and  co-ordination 
of  action  which,  while  not  noticeable  to  the  audi- 
ence, are  important  aids  to  synthetic  effect. 

In  the  historical  and  romantic  productions  he 
left  only  one  creative  portion  of  the  work  to  oth- 
ers. Because  certain  of  his  co-workers  were 
90 


The  Artist-Director 

artists  as  well  as  expert  workers  in  costume  mak- 
ing, he  left  to  them  the  dressing  of  the  figures, 
making  sure  only  that  the  types  were  right,  and 
the  colours  in  keeping  with  the  settings. 

Hume's  services  to  the  Arts  and  Crafts  The- 
atre did  not  end  with  complete  responsibility 
behind  the  curtain.  Much  of  the  preliminary 
work  of  organization  and  management,  which 
should  be  the  concern  of  others  in  any  mature  art 
theatre  project,  were  necessarily  left  to  him — 
as  they  probably  will  be  in  many  another  little 
theatre  where  a  professional  director  is  called  to  a 
virgin  field.  He  lectured  extensively  before 
schools,  clubs  and  assemblies,  and  otherwise 
helped  to  interest  the  community  in  the  theatre. 
And  he  later  arranged  other  lectures  and  a  teach- 
ers' class  in  an  effort  to  carry  the  results  of  the 
theatre's  work  to  a  wider  circle. 

If  the  first  season  at  the  Arts  and  Crafts  The- 
atre had  accomplished  nothing  else  it  still  would 
have  been  worth  while  as  proving  that  America 
has  one  artist  who  can  be  called  in  to  organize  and 
direct  a  progressive  theatre,  designing  his  own 
stage,  if  necessary,  and  then  directing  a  series  of 
productions  approaching  the  best  ideals  of  the  art 
theatre,  with  expert  attention  to  every  creative 
detail.  For  Hume  has  shown  himself  to  be,  first, 
an  imaginative  artist  and  inventive  innovator,  and 

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The  Art  Theatre 

second,  a  born  executive  and  leader  of  men.  He 
is  an  example  of  that  type  of  theatre  artist  of 
which  America  stands  in  greatest  need. 

VI 

Maurice  Browne,  the  other  typical  artist-direc- 
tor of  America,  affords  an  interesting  contrast  to 
Hume ;  but  it  is  to  be  noted  that  his  qualifications 
include  the  same  combination  of  capacity  for 
leadership  with  artistic  feeling  and  broad  cul- 
tural training.  But  Browne's  work  has  been  nar- 
rower in  a  sense.  He  has  preferred  to  devote  his 
whole  career  in  the  theatre  to  one  playhouse,  and 
I  think  that  he  feels  that  his  future  is  definitely 
bound  up  with  the  movement  in  Chicago.  And 
he  maintains  the  balance  of  artist  and  manager 
less  successfully  than  does  Hume.  He  is  more 
clearly  the  artist-thinker — certainly  more  a 
dreamer — and  less  a  practical  director.  Just 
because  his  aesthetic  sense  is  more  acute,  his  the- 
atre has  been  concerned  more  closely  (and  more 
successfully)  than  any  other  with  the  pursuit  of  a 
typical  art-theatre  technique — and  so  has  been 
less  related  to  the  community  in  which  it  exists. 
Hume  is  more  of  a  practical  idealist,  not  only  in 
the  sense  of  combining  business  sense  with  artis- 
tic insight,  but  because  he  is  willing  to  compromise 
with  his  public  in  order  to  get  his  idealistic  pro- 
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The  Artist-Director 

ject  securely  started.  Maurice  Browne,  with  the 
artist's  disUke  of  compromise,  stuck  to  his  con- 
victions, producing  a  remarkable  array  of  typical 
art-theatre  plays,  but  ending  in  temporary  bank- 
ruptcy and  insecurity. 

It  is  not  within  my  province  here  to  ask  which 
is  the  better  method — of  course  we  want  the  un- 
compromising spirit  of  the  one  achievement,  with 
the  financial  success  and  the  community  solidarity 
of  the  other — ^but  it  is  at  least  worth  while  to 
point  out  the  two  types  in  contrast.  And  it  is  im- 
portant to  note  that  Maurice  Browne,  like  Hume, 
insists  upon  the  importance  of  concentrating  the 
creative  functions  of  stage  work  in  one  artist's 
hands.  He  insists  that  this  artist  must  be  more 
than  a  mere  theorist  and  designer;  he  must  be 
a  workman  as  well.  He  must  have  knowledge, 
too,  of  the  older  theatre,  in  order  that  while  look- 
ing into  the  future  he  may  keep  in  touch  with  the 
present  and  avoid  the  mistakes  of  the  past.  I 
wish  to  close  the  chapter  with  a  quotation  from 
an  essay  which  Maurice  Browne  wrote  as  a  plea 
for  the  establishment  of  an  American  art  theatre : 

"The  man  or  woman  who  would  establish  an 
art  theatre  that  is  an  art  theatre  and  not  a  pet 
rabbit  fed  by  hand,  must  be  able  to  design  it,  to 
ventilate  it,  to  decorate  it,  to  equip  its  stage,  to 
light  it  (and  to  handle  its  lighting  himself,  or 

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The  Art  Theatre 

his  electricians  will  not  listen  to  him),  to  plan 
his  costumes  and  scenery,  ay,  and  at  a  shift  to 
make  them  with  his  own  hand;  otherwise  his 
costumer  and  scene-painter,  if  he  be  fool  enough 
to  have  one,  will  do  strange  things  to  send  him 
nightmares  at  dawn  and  terrify  his  wife;  and  in 
addition  to  all  these  things  that  are  essential,  he 
will,  if  he  be  a  wise  man,  have  the  stage-conven- 
tions of  the  last  generation  at  his  finger-tips — not 
merely  because  some  of  them  are  useful  and  most 
of  them  deader  than  Lazarus  and  so  avoidable 
with  foresight  and  a  good  nose  .  .  .  but  because 
he  is  establishing  an  art  theatre,  that  is  to  say, 
imposing  a  living  convention  on  a  dead  one,  so 
that  it  is  as  well  for  him  to  know  what  the  dead 
one  was,  and  why,  for  example,  Pinero  and  Suder- 
mann  are  of  it,  while  von  Hoffmansthal  and 
Abercrombie  are  not.  And  finally  he  will  know 
not  merely  the  names  of  Nijinski  and  Craig  and 
Fortuny  and  half  a  hundred  more,  but  what  they 
have  done,  and,  most  important  of  all,  how  and 
why  they  have  done  it.  And  the  reason  he  must 
know  these  things,  which  the  millionaire  and  the 
pauper  dilettante  who  are  dabbling  today  in  the 
art  of  the  American  theatre  do  not  know,  is  that 
he  is  establishing  an  art  theatre  which  shall  be 
the  temple  of  a  living  art." 

And  so  the  chapter  closes.     I  hope  that  the 
94 


The  Artist-Director 

reader  will  carry  in  his  recollection  of  it  a  pic- 
ture of  the  artist-director  combining  qualities  of 
Craig  and  Reinhardt,  Hume  and  Browne — a  new 
man  of  the  theatre  who  is  at  once  thinking  artist 
and  practical  workman,  dreamer  and  executive, 
machinist  and  priest  of  the  temple  that  will  be  the 
new  theatre. 


95 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   QUESTION   OF   ACTING   AND   ACTORS 

WHEN  one  surveys  the  whole  field  of 
the  American  theatre,  commercial 
and  progressive,  one  soon  discovers 
that,  next  to  the  problem  of  artist-directors,  the 
most  puzzling  question  facing  the  art-theatre 
group  is  that  of  acting  and  actors.  In  the  de- 
partments of  playwriting  and  stagecraft  we  have 
at  least  arrived  at  a  basis  of  intelligent  experi- 
mentation, if  not  at  some  sort  of  substantial 
achievement;  but  in  the  matter  of  acting  we  are 
merely  in  a  muddle. 

The  question  is  two-fold.  First,  it  is  necessary 
to  arrive  at  some  understanding  of  the  distin- 
guishing qualities  of  art-theatre  acting;  that  is, 
it  is  necessary  to  discover  the  lasting  ideals  of 
acting  as  an  art,  and  to  note  the  differences,  if 
any,  which  may  be  expected  to  mark  off  its  prac- 
tice under  the  synthetic  ideal  of  theatre  produc- 
tion. And  second,  it  is  pertinent  to  inquire 
where  the  actors  for  the  art  theatre  are  to  come 
from:  whether  a  certain  number  or  all  can  be 
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Acting  and  Actors 

redeemed  from  the  ways  of  the  business  theatre — 
and  whether  a  small  minority  or  perhaps  a  ma- 
jority are  to  come  from  what  are  now  amateur 
rather  than  professional  channels. 

In  the  commercial  theatre  the  ideals  of  acting 
have  been  lost;  or  if  any  remain,  they  are  those 
which  concern  the  development  (and  consequent 
personal  glorification)  of  the  individual  actor, 
and  are  not  such  as  would  contribute  to  the  en- 
semble effect  required  in  progressive  theatres.  In 
the  average  little  theatre,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
acting  has  merely  "happened";  and  if  the  in- 
surgent groups  have  developed  an  ideal,  it  has 
been  only  that  of  unconvention — a  negatively  de- 
cent but  somewhat  barren  ideal,  which  overlooks 
beauty  of  speech,  distinction  of  manner  and  de- 
signed group  movement.  And  in  those  few  cases 
in  which  amateur  and  professional  have  joined 
hands — the  Washington  Square  Players  and  the 
Portmanteau  Players  are  examples — lack  of  in- 
spired direction  has  left  the  companies  on  a  low 
professional  plane:  they  have  exhibited  neither 
the  smoothness  of  action  of  the  first-rate  profes- 
sional company,  nor  the  freshness,  the  felicitous 
speech  and  the  team-work  which  alone  can  make 
the  amateur  superior  to  the  commercial  player. 

Where,  then,  should  one  seek  to  find  models? 
Clearly,  not  in  America.     Only  by  a  study  of 

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The  Art  Theatre 

the  best  acting  in  European  theatres,  and  par- 
ticularly in  those  theatres  in  which  rounded-out, 
balanced  production  has  been  made  the  chief  aim, 
can  one  discover  a  sound  basis  for  a  theory  of 
the  acting  of  the  future. 


Of  the  attributes  of  great  acting  which  have 
been  all  but  lost  to  the  theatre  in  the  last  quarter- 
century,  the  most  sadly  neglected  is  beauty  of 
speech.  In  this  country  the  actors  have  forgot- 
ten almost  entirely  that  there  is  a  legitimate  ap- 
peal to  the  ear  in  words  musically  spoken,  and 
our  stage  has  fallen  to  a  dead  level  of  prosaic  and 
slovenly  speech.  In  voice  quality  and  enuncia- 
tion the  standard  set  in  our  theatres  is  not  ap- 
preciably superior  to  that  heard  in  our  barber 
shops  or  college  halls — which  is  to  say  that  it 
approaches  an  ungodly  combination  of  stridency 
and  mumbling.  Speech  of  the  sort  natural  to 
nine  out  of  ten  of  the  men  and  women  on  the 
American  stage  can  have  no  place  in  the  scheme 
of  art  theatre  production. 

It  is  clear  how  the  theatre  came  to  such  a  de- 
graded standard  of  speaking.  Some  decades  ago, 
as  an  aftermath  of  the  romantic  revival,  perhaps, 
the  art  of  acting  became  a  sad  caricature  of  its 
once  beautiful  self,  through  over-accentuation  and 
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Acting  and  Actors 

an  absurd  artificiality.  Quiet  and  restrained  im- 
personation was  lost  in  an  excess  of  ranting  speech 
and  heroic  attitudes.  When  the  naturalistic 
movement  swept  the  theatre,  the  artificiality  was 
destroyed,  but  nothing  was  invented  to  take  the 
place  of  what  had  once  been  a  legitimate  added 
beauty  of  the  theatre  production.  Poetry  of 
speech  was  allowed,  so  to  speak,  to  pass  down  and 
out  entirely.  The  actor  jumped  from  an  exag- 
gerated conventionalization  to  a  method  which 
was  supposed  to  be  "perfectly  natural."  But 
one  cannot  capture  the  illusion  of  the  natural 
by  unrelieved,  unconventionalized  imitation  of 
chance  aspects  of  life — whether  in  speech  or 
movement  or  form  and  colour.  Insofar  as  the 
actor  imitates  without  betterment  the  language  of 
the  street  and  the  shop,  he  loses  the  only  thing 
that  can  make  speech  tolerable,  not  to  say  lovely, 
in  the  theatre. 

The  first  requirement  for  bringing  beauty  of 
speech  to  the  stage  is  a  purely  mechanical  one: 
clean  enunciation.  As  a  nation  we  are  notorious 
for  our  slurring  methods  of  utterance.  We  do 
not  break  our  words  and  phrases  cleanly.  But 
that  is  not  a  reason  for  accepting  careless  speak- 
ing in  a  work  of  art  on  the  stage.  Actors  should 
rather  set  an  example  to  the  nation.  In  an  art 
theatre,  or  in  one  that  makes  pretension  even  to 

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The  Art  Theatre 

near-art  standards,  this  should  be  a  first  test  of 
the  actor.  Walter  Prichard  Eaton  recently  put 
it  up  to  the  little  theatres  neatly  when  he  wrote: 
"The  rankest  amateur  ought  to  be  able  to  pro- 
nounce correctly,  and  enunciate  all  the  syllables 
of  a  polysyllabic  word  without  swallowing  the 
penult.  If  he  cannot,  he  should  be  politely  in- 
vited to  become  a  professional  and  join  Mr. 
Cohan's  company.  When  you  enter  a  little  thea- 
tre you  ought  at  least  to  be  confident  of  hearing 
better  speech  than  in  any  Broadway  production." 

The  second  requirement  is  partly  a  matter  of 
physical  endowment  and  partly  a  matter  of  train- 
ing :  a  musical  voice  and  flexible  register.  There 
may  be  people  with  "impossible"  voices.  If  so, 
they  should  stay  off  the  stage;  they  are  no  more 
fitted  to  become  actors  than  a  one-handed  man 
is  fitted  to  become  a  pianist.  But  most  voices, 
if  not  naturally  musical,  can  be  trained  so  that 
they  are  at  least  passively  pleasing;  and  most  of 
us  possess  undeveloped  tone-registers  of  which  we 
never  even  dream.  It  is  the  business  of  schools  of 
acting  and  studio  theatres  to  develop  this  quality. 

But  after  all,  the  potentially  musical  voice  is 
of  small  importance  if  it  goes  not  in  company 
with  the  third  requirement:  a  feeling  for  the  ex- 
pressiveness of  speech.  For  otherwise  the  golden 
100 


THE  LOST  SILK  HAT 


Acting  and  Actors 

instrument  in  the  throat  will  return  to  dust  with 
its  harmonies  una  wakened. 

This  matter  of  feeling  is  a  variable  quantity 
and  an  elusive  quality;  but  we  may  be  sure  that 
it  is  never  absent  from  the  true  actor's  make-up. 
It  enables  the  herald  to  speak  his  one  line  in  a 
manner  worthy  of  his  courtly  surroundings;  and 
it  enables  Sarah  Bernhardt  to  ring  every  change 
of  feeling  through  the  music  of  her  inflection.  It 
is  first  of  all  a  feeling  for  the  rhythms  of  speech, 
for  the  cadences  of  the  poet's  lines;  but  more 
than  that,  it  is  a  reflection  and  a  suggestion  of 
the  subtleties  and  intensities  of  the  emotions  that 
lie  hidden  behind  the  action.  For  words  are  at 
best  but  symbols,  and  the  impression  called  up 
depends  upon  the  way  of  speaking.  An  inex- 
pressive voice  affords  but  a  hard  dry  shell  of 
meaning,  whereas  the  same  words  from  the  lips 
of  a  master  of  speech  may  call  up  visions  of  pas- 
sion or  of  calmness,  of  tenderness  or  love  or 
sorrow — may  afford  overtones  of  feeling  other- 
wise never  captured. 

These  two  things,  then,  we  may  assuredly  de- 
mand of  the  new  acting:  that  in  the  speaking 
there  shall  be  a  sequence  of  musical  notes,  a 
pattern  of  sound  that  will  bring  a  physical  de- 
light to  the  ear;  and  that  the  voice  modulation 

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The  Art  Theatre 

shall  reflect  a  delicate  understanding  of  the  emo- 
tion and  thought  underlying  the  surface  play  of 
words. 

Poetry  of  speech  is  not  properly  a  requirement 
of  poetic  productions  alone,  but  should  pertain  to 
realistic  drama  as  well.  For  its  beauty  is  not 
such  that  it  detracts  from  interest  in  the  action, 
but  rather  is  an  added  loveliness.  It  is  not 
ornament  superimposed,  and  covering  the  struc- 
tural lines,  but  rather  a  part  of  the  structure  it- 
self, a  part  necessary  to  the  expression  of  truth. 
There  are,  of  course,  poetic  dramas  which  lend 
themselves  particularly  to  musical  interpretation, 
which  allow  the  actor  greater  latitude  in  delicate 
musical  intonation.  There  are  even  plays  which, 
on  account  of  lack  of  action,  may  be  termed  liter- 
ary rather  than  dramatic,  and  which  may  still 
be  staged  satisfyingly  through  the  appeal  of  the 
spoken  poetry,  for  the  sake  of  the  sensuous  beauty 
afforded  to  the  ear.  Such  are  several  of  the  plays 
of  Yeats  and  Dunsany.  But  even  the  realistic 
play  can  legitimately  add  the  appeal  of  distin- 
guished speaking.  Unbeautiful  speech,  indeed, 
has  no  right  place  on  the  stage  even  of  a  realistic 
theatre.  An  exhibition  of  commonplaceness  there 
is  no  more  to  be  condoned  than  are  those  so-called 
naturalistic  plays  which  reveal  a  photographic 
segment  of  sordid  life. 
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Acting  and  Actors 

n 

After  the  music  of  speech  there  is  a  corre- 
sponding requirement  of  rhythm  in  the  actor's 
movements.  Not  only  must  his  gestures  be 
quietly  expressive,  but  there  must  be  a  certain 
grace  of  bodily  action,  and  a  measured  fluidity 
or  rhythm  in  changes  from  posture  to  posture. 
Just  as  in  the  use  of  the  voice,  there  must  be 
overtones  of  feeling:  the  face,  the  hands,  the 
body  and  limbs  must  interpret  the  subtler  emo- 
tion which  are  not  expressed  in  the  larger  actions. 
For  the  face  when  used  as  a  mask,  and  the  body 
when  directed  as  an  instrument  of  rhythmic  ex- 
pression, can  register  shades  of  feeling  which  are 
impossible  even  to  the  perfectly  modulated  voice. 

In  the  American  theatre  there  used  to  be  gen- 
erations of  actors  who  possessed  the  subtlest  pow- 
ers of  expression  and  distinguished  grace  of  bear- 
ing. The  older  generation  in  the  theatre  today 
has  a  charm  of  manner,  a  dignity  of  presence, 
which  shames  the  average  player.  If  this  some- 
times amounts  to  a  romantic  affectation  or  arti- 
ficiality, so  that  we  are  apt  to  say  disparagingly, 
"He  has  the  manner  of  an  old  actor,"  it  still  is 
no  argument  for  throwing  away  the  principle  of 
beautiful  movement.  One  has  only  to  choose 
ten  young  actors  and  place  them  beside  a  typical 

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The  Art  Theatre 

representative  of  the  old  school,  to  know  that  we 
have  lost  a  real  charm  from  the  making  of  our 
players  of  today.  For  the  American  stage  is 
slowly  being  taken  over  by  a  generation  of  actors 
untrained  to  the  old  distinction  of  bearing,  and 
one  that  trusts  little  to  delicacy  and  shading  of 
expression. 

We  have  today  a  commercial  stage  peopled  by 
personalities,  each  trained  to  parade  individual 
idiosyncrasies  or  to  rely  on  perfect  "naturalness" 
of  movement.  For  this  the  little  theatre  players 
substitute  no  training  at  all.  At  least  they  have 
not  spent  those  years  of  apprenticeship  to  ex- 
perience which  are  necessary  to  perfect  stage  pres- 
ence. One  sometimes  wonders  whether  one- 
fourth — ^nay,  one-tenth — of  the  actors  blithely  ap- 
pearing on  little  theatre  stages  know  that  there 
is  such  a  thing  as  scientific  foot-work,  or  that 
the  best  of  the  older  generation  went  through  years 
of  bodily  training  to  gain  ease  of  movement. 

Expression  on  the  stage  may  be  partly  a  mat- 
ter of  natural  feeling  and  intuition,  although  in- 
tellectual understanding  and  tortuous  training 
have  distinct  place  there  too.  But  grace  of  bear- 
ing, the  poetry  of  movement,  can  be  developed 
in  any  one  with  even  an  elementary  sense  of 
rhythm.  The  leading  two  art  theatres  of  Europe, 
the  Moscow  Art  Theatre  and  the  Deutsches  Thea- 
104 


Acting  and  Actors 

ter  at  Berlin,  in  order  to  train  their  actors  and 
students  in  the  art  of  movement,  have  established 
courses  in  the  Dalcroze  system  of  rhythmical 
dancing.  This,  it  is  to  be  noted,  is  not  in  order 
to  develop  dancers,  but  to  give  players  poise  and 
action-control.  Regarding  the  ideas  of  Jaques- 
Dalcroze,  Huntly  Carter  has  written  as  follows: 

"The  inventor  has  discovered  that  we  all  have 
musical  rhythm  in  us  answering  to  that  of  the 
universe,  but  very  few  are  trained  to  express  it. 
So  he  has  provided  a  simple  key  which  any  one 
can  apply.  He  gives  his  pupils  a  quantity  of 
musical  notes,  and  leaves  each  pupil  free  to  com- 
pose his  or  her  own  musical  movements.  In 
this  view,  every  movement  we  make  should  and 
could  be  equivalent  to  a  note  of  music,  and,  given 
the  right  note,  there  will  be  an  harmonious  re- 
sponse. If  we  are  trained  to  realize  these  notes 
with  the  aid  of  music,  soon  we  come  to  realize 
them  automatically  without  its  aid.  Thus  we 
may,  if  we  like,  learn  to  move  through  life  in 
compositions  in  which  spontaneous  melody  and 
rhythm,  and  not  mechanical,  logical,  or  meaning- 
less actions,  are  the  essentials." 

It  is  perhaps  too  much  to  ask  that  any  great 
number  of  Americans  shall  soon  "learn  to  move 
through  life"  with  anything  approaching  "spon- 
taneous melody  and  rhythm."     But  we  have  the 

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The  Art  Theatre 

right  at  least  to  ask  that  our  dramatic  schools — 
and  art  theatres,  when  they  come — shall  train 
actors  in  the  principles  of  some  such  system  as 
Jaques-Dalcroze  has  invented. 

Beyond  the  matter  of  individual  action,  which 
is  summed  up  in  expression,  gesture,  and  personal 
bearing,  there  is  a  wider  group  action,  a  designed 
relationship  between  player  and  player,  which 
is  too  seldom  practised  intelligently  in  the  Ameri- 
can theatre.  This  is  due  partly  to  the  scramble 
for  the  centre  of  the  stage,  on  the  part  of  the 
"big"  actors,  and  partly  to  the  filling  in  of  minor 
parts  with  mere  "support,"  so  that  certain  char- 
acters are  played  up  continually,  while  others 
do  their  work  either  perfunctorily  or  inexpertly; 
but  it  is  due  chiefly  to  the  lack  of  directors  with 
sufficient  artistic  knowledge  to  make  the  play 
a  concert  of  movement.  The  group-playing  of 
the  Irish  Players  comes  to  mind  as  an  excellent 
example  of  unpretentious  but  intelligent  related 
acting.  Without  emphasizing  personalities,  they 
always  managed  to  throw  the  speaker  into  relief, 
the  other  actors  falling  into  a  background  neces- 
sary to  the  picture  but  never  interrupting  the 
main  motive;  and  there  was  about  their  stage 
groupings  a  gratifying  smoothness,  almost  a 
fluidity  of  movement.  In  certain  poetic  produc- 
tions, and  particularly  in  those  which  rely  upon 
106 


Acting  and  Actors 

the  appeal  to  the  eye  as  much  as  the  appeal  to 
the  ear,  it  is  possible  to  keep  the  grouping  almost 
constantly  in  the  realm  of  pictorial  design. 
Maurice  Browne  is  a  genius  in  the  application 
of  the  principles  of  pictorial  composition  to  stage 
arrangement,  and  in  several  of  his  productions 
the  figures  have  been  so  disposed  that  the  eye  was 
enchanted  by  a  continual  series  of  charmingly 
composed  pictures.  Such  grouping  can  be  over- 
done, to  the  harm  of  the  spiritual  content  of 
the  drama — but  so  far  it  has  been  radically  im- 
derdone  on  the  American  stage. 

ni 

Having  arrived  at  some  imderstanding  of  the 
elementary  ideals  of  acting,  having  discovered 
what  things  have  been  lost  out  of  the  art  through 
its  commercialization,  one  may  ask  how  the  act- 
ing at  a  typical  art  theatre  may  be  expected  to 
differ  from  that  at  any  commercial  theatre  which 
may  also  raise  its  standard  to  include  musical 
speaking,  expressive  and  pleasing  action,  and  in- 
telligent group-playing.  In  the  first  place  there 
will  be  a  quietness  of  tone  pervading  the  art 
theatre  in  the  playing  as  in  every  other  depart- 
ment of  production.  For  this  is  to  be  the  temple 
of  the  highest  art,  and  high  art  is  always  marked 
by  reticence  and  a  reverential  rather  than  a  for- 

107 


The  Art  Theatre 

ward  spirit.  This  quieter  method  of  acting, 
moreover,  will  be  the  means  of  bringing  a  truer 
balance,  of  giving  the  wider  dramatic  meaning 
fuller  scope  for  expression.  William  Butler 
Yeats,  who  has  been  particularly  concerned  with 
methods  which  would  do  justice  to  poetry  spoken 
on  the  stage,  once  wrote  in  praise  of  the  acting 
of  the  Irish  Players:  "It  was  the  first  perform- 
ance I  had  seen,  since  I  understood  these  things, 
in  which  the  actors  kept  still  enough  to  give 
poetical  writing  its  full  effect  upon  the  stage." 
From  practically  all  the  European  theatres  in 
which  the  art-theatre  ideal  has  been  sought,  critics 
report  that  the  acting  has  been  marked  by  a  com- 
bination of  quietness  and  distinction.  Just  as, 
under  the  synthetic  ideal,  the  setting  must  be  un- 
obtrusive enough  to  avoid  interference  with  the 
action,  and  the  lighting  modified  to  harmonize 
with  the  mood  of  the  drama,  so  the  acting  must 
avoid  the  flamboyant  and  the  noisy,  in  order  that 
the  soul  of  the  play  may  shine  through  unob- 
scured  by  a  too-compelling  "bit"  on  the  actor's 
part. 

The  star  system  will  have  no  place  in  art  thea- 
tre organization.  In  any  production  which  has 
a  purpose  more  serious  than  playing  up  a  darling 
of  the  managers  and  the  public,  it  is  necessary 
that  a  balance  of  parts  be  maintained,  that  the 
108 


Acting  and  Actors 

emphasis  be  put  not  on  one  figure,  with  mere 
fillers  to  complete  the  picture,  but  on  the  en- 
semble. 

The  implication  of  the  star  system  is,  moreover, 
that  it  is  the  acting,  and  not  the  play  as  produced, 
that  counts  most.  At  least  the  system  has  so 
worked  out  in  America,  where  the  commercial 
exploitation  of  stars  has  had  its  most  deplorable 
effects  on  playwriting.  But  a  somewhat  para- 
doxical result  is  noticeable:  while  the  system  be- 
gan by  exalting  the  art  of  acting  at  the  expense 
of  the  other  arts  of  the  theatre,  it  ended  by  de- 
stroying that  art  with  the  others.  The  big  fel- 
lows among  the  actors,  through  being  raised  above 
the  other  artists  of  the  playhouse,  lost  their  per- 
spective and  failed  to  preserve  the  true  relation- 
ship between  the  contributive  arts,  and  so  failed 
to  grow  bigger.  And  the  little  fellows  tried  to 
imitate  the  big  fellows,  and  so  fell  into  a  mess  of 
trickery,  instead  of  developing  their  own  native 
talents  on  a  firm  foundation.  The  temptation 
to  create  stars,  moreover,  was  so  great  that  cer- 
tain managers  began  to  push  up  actors  who, 
through  prettiness  or  some  other  personal  charm, 
were  likely  to  catch  the  public  eye,  but  who  were 
lacking  in  the  thorough  training  and  depth  of 
feeling  necessary  to  make  them  truly  great.  A 
false  standard  was  thus  created,  which  has  re- 

109 


The  Art  Theatre 

suited  in  personality  becoming  the  curse  of  mod- 
ern acting. 

This  fallacy  which  lifts  personality  above  pow- 
ers of  impersonation  must  be  combated  by  the 
art  theatres.  It  is  true  that  the  actor  usually 
lends  additional  colour  to  his  role  through  per- 
sonal distinction,  through  beauty,  or  strength  or 
grace  of  manner.  But  it  is  nevertheless  true 
that  he  must  subordinate  his  own  individuality 
to  that  of  the  character  played.  If  he  happens 
to  possess  the  charm  of  a  John  Drew  he  should 
not  substitute  the  charming  John  Drew  for  the 
character  the  playwright  intended,  for  that  char- 
acter was  probably  meant  to  be  charming  in  a 
different  way;  and  he  should  not  order  plays 
specially  designed  to  display  his  charm. 

It  is,  indeed,  the  duty  of  the  actor  to  sink  his 
own  personality,  his  feelings,  the  little  personal 
ways  that  endear  him  to  his  friends,  even  his 
attractive  appearance,  in  an  illusion  of  some 
one  else.  He  must  forget  himself  entirely.  In 
so  saying,  I  do  not  mean  that  he  should  substi- 
tute emotional  for  intellectual  control,  for  I  be- 
lieve firmly  that  the  best  acting  arrives  by  de- 
sign and  is  absolutely  controlled  by  the  intel- 
ligence. But  he  must  forget  his  individuality,  he 
must  renounce  personal  ambition  in  ambition  for 
the  whole  play,  he  must  assume  the  disinterested- 
UO 


Acting  and  Actors 

ness  which  marks  the  great  creative  figure  in  any 
art. 

But  more  than  this,  he  must  in  the  art  theatre 
submit  to  direction.  If  his  conception  of  a  part 
differs  from  that  of  the  director  (as  seldom  will 
happen  if  he  has  in  mind  the  higher  ideal  of  the 
play's  success),  he  must  be  obedient  to  the  lat- 
ter's  decision.  For  we  have  seen  that  true  art- 
theatre  production  is  premised  on  a  collective 
ideal,  and  on  complete  control  by  the  guiding 
genius  of  an  artist-director.  This  submission  to 
authority  does  not  mean  surrender  of  the  player's 
interpretative  function;  it  means  only  that  he 
must  be  concerned  with  the  interpretation  of  the 
play  first,  and  with  his  individual  work  after 
that.  He  may  be  just  as  great  an  artist  under 
the  director's  guidance;  indeed,  he  is  likely  to 
appear  greater  because  he  will  be  in  perfect 
harmony  with  his  surroundings.  He  is  usually 
as  free  to  interpret  creatively  as  he  is  under  the 
go-as-you-please  system  now  in  vogue  in  the 
American  theatre.  He  merely  promises  that  he 
will  keep  his  work  within  such  limits  that  it  will 
not  upset  the  other  elements  of  the  production 
or  clash  with  the  work  of  the  other  actors.  And 
these  limits  are  set  by  an  artist  instead  of  a  busi- 
nessman or  a  businessman's  stage-manager. 
The  actor  is  left  free  to  think  out  the  character- 

111 


The  Art  Theatre 

ization,  and  there  is  no  limit  to  the  subtlety  or 
intensity  which  he  may  display  in  its  playing,  so 
long  as  he  does  not  arrogate  to  himself  func- 
tions that  properly  belong  elsewhere.  The  scope 
for  individual  technique  is  as  great  as  before,  but 
within  the  limits  of  harmony  with  his  fellows. 

IV 

In  European  countries  it  is  possible  to  find 
actors  with  such  thorough  training  in  speaking 
and  with  such  grace  of  bearing  that  the  develop- 
ment of  an  art  theatre  company  may  be  a  matter 
of  months  rather  than  years.  Even  in  England, 
where  the  actor-manager  system  has  interfered 
with  the  development  of  companies  devoted  to 
the  ideal  of  ensemble  acting,  the  standard  of 
speech  is  gratefully  high,  and  infinitely  better 
than  that  prevailing  on  the  American  stage.  But 
on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  the  question  of  pro- 
curing a  satisfactory  company  for  a  professional 
art  theatre  is  exceedingly  puzzling. 

It  is  probable,  of  course,  that  we  shall  not  have 
for  several  years  an  art  theatre  of  high  profes- 
sional standing:  that  is,  we  shall  not  have  play- 
houses and  companies  that  will  bear  the  relation- 
ship to  our  business  theatres  which  the  Deutsches 
Theater  and  the  Munich  Art  Theatre,  for  in- 
stance, bear  to  the  commercial  theatres  of  Ger- 
112 


Acting  and  Actors 

many.  But  if  the  other  factors  necessary  to  the 
establishment  of  such  a  theatre  in  an  American 
city  should  become  immediately  available,  where 
should  we  turn  for  the  actors?  Ey  paying  an 
exorbitant  price  for  the  very  best  people  in  the 
commercial  theatre,  it  might  be  possible  to  form 
one  or  even  two  satisfying  American  com- 
panies— but  the  price  would  probably  be  so  high 
that  immediate  bankruptcy  would  result.  Ex- 
cept for  this  high-priced,  very  small  minority, 
there  would  be  practically  no  native  actors  equal 
to  the  demands  of  such  an  institution.  The  aver- 
age American  player  not  only  lacks  the  required 
artistic  training  and  cultural  background,  but 
would  have  absolutely  no  sympathetic  under- 
standing of  the  ideals  and  aims  of  an  art  the- 
atre. 

The  likely  alternative,  in  case  of  an  early  es- 
tablishment of  art  theatres,  would  be  the  selec- 
tion of  a  company  of  British  actors.  Moderately 
talented  English  players,  with  real  distinction  of 
voice  and  bearing,  could  be  employed  for  moder- 
ate prices.^  And  since,  unlike  our  American 
product,  they  would  probably  be  educated  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  they  could  within  a  season  or  two 

^  For  many  years  Winthrop  Ames,  who  understands  the  qualities 
of  good  acting  better  than  any  other  commercial  manager,  has 
been  importing  English  actors  for  his  productions. 

113 


The  Art  Theatre 

be  trained  to  the  pecuHar  requirements  of  the  art- 
theatre  play. 


The  full-fledged  professional  art  theatre,  how- 
ever, is  not  likely  to  materialize  immediately.  It 
is  much  more  probable  that  each  city  will  have 
its  preliminary  experiment  in  the  direction  of 
such  an  institution.  The  first  step  is  that  which 
many  cities  are  taking  now — San  Francisco, 
Denver,  Rochester,  St.  Louis,  are  examples — the 
establishment  of  little  theatres,  amateur  in  acting 
and  stage  setting,  under  directors  who  are  either 
amateurs  or  professionals  of  the  old  school.  In 
the  result  attained  these  are  not  often  notably  bet- 
ter than  the  old-time  aimless  social-dramatic  club. 
But  usually  they  have  seen  some  glimmering  of 
the  synthetic  ideal;  and  in  choice  of  plays  and 
in  stagecraft  they  are  usually  progressive.  The 
second  step  is  that  which  has  been  accomplished 
at  Chicago  and  at  Detroit,  and  by  the  Washing- 
ton Square  Players  in  New  York:  a  lifting  of 
the  experimental  ideal  to  a  definite  search  for  an 
art-theatre  type  of  play  and  technique  of  produc- 
tion. These  theatres  have  been  stabilized  to  a 
certain  extent,  and  there  has  been  a  definite  and 
intelligent  effort  to  professionalize  them  while 
retaining  the  best  of  the  valuable  amateur  ideals. 
114 


Acting  and  Actors 

After  such  theatres  we  may  expect  to  see  various 
stages  in  the  professionalizing  process,  until  we 
ultimately  arrive  at  the  ideal  of  the  European  art 
theatre. 

The  most  important  question  at  the  present 
stage,  the  question  facing  every  little  theatre  that 
looks  forward  to  an  achievement  such  as  that  at 
Chicago  or  Detroit,  is  this :  is  it  better  to  use  ama- 
teur or  professional  actors?  The  Washington 
Square  Players  have  chosen  to  call  themselves 
professionals,  and  they  have  gathered  into  their 
company  many  players  who  have  had  experience 
on  the  commercial  stage.  The  results  do  not 
argue  eloquently  for  the  system:  the  acting  has 
been  a  notably  weak  link  in  the  Washington 
Square  achievement — it  has  had  neither  the  fresh- 
ness of  good  amateur  work  nor  the  ease  and  fin- 
ish of  the  best  professional  playing.  The  Port- 
manteau Players,  who  have  tried  to  attain  certain 
of  the  art-theatre  ideals  with  a  group  of  young 
players  chosen  from  the  commercial  theatre,  have 
been  equally  unsuccessful  in  attaining  ensemble 
acting  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  spirit  of  the 
play. 

The  argument  for  the  other  side  I  wish  to  take 
from  Sam  Hume,  who  has  had  experience  in  pro- 
duction under  both  systems.  At  the  Arts  and 
Crafts  Theatre  he  has  had  only  amateurs  in  his 

115 


The  Art  Theatre 

company,  with  results  that  compare  favourably 
with  the  work  of  the  Washington  Square  Play- 
ers and  the  Portmanteau  Players.  Certainly  the 
acting  has  been  no  more  ragged  in  general,  and 
in  the  directions  of  speaking  poetic  lines  music- 
ally and  creating  group-harmony  it  has  been 
superior.  Hume's  summary  of  the  situation  runs 
like  this :  At  the  present  stage  of  the  art  theatre 
movement  we  are  limited,  by  the  small  audiences 
so  far  developed  for  the  best  forms  of  drama, 
and  by  certain  exterior  circumstances,  to  a  small 
expenditure  each  year.  If  a  little  theatre  pays 
actors'  salaries  it  cannot  do  justice  to  the  other 
demands  of  art  theatre  production.  The  class 
of  actor  it  can  afford  to  pay,  moreover,  is  not 
able  to  do  as  good  work  as  the  best  type  of  ama- 
teur. It  is  unwise  to  pay  a  few  "leading"  actors 
and  then  fill  in  with  amateurs,  because  one 
thereby  creates  an  undemocratic  atmosphere  and 
a  basis  for  petty  jealousies  and  disputes.  It  is 
better,  therefore,  to  use  only  amateurs,  at  least 
until  such  time  as  the  theatre  can  afford  the  very 
best  professionals.  A  paid  company,  moreover, 
is  necessarily  small,  and  one  can  choose  from  a 
much  wider  field  when  using  amateurs. 

The  advantages  of  amateur  companies  have 
been  brought  out  clearly  during  Hume's  season 
at  the  Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre.     In  the  first 
116 


SAM  HUME  AS  ABRAHAM   AND 
FRANCES  LOUGHTON  AS  ISAAC 


Acting  and  Actors 

place  they  submit  more  willingly  to  direction; 
they  have  not  the  professional  actor's  obsession 
that  the  old  method  is  right,  and  they  conform  to 
the  ensemble  method  more  easily.  They  are 
free,  moreover,  from  those  artificialities  and 
tricks  which  mark  the  commercial  theatre  player, 
and  which  the  art  theatre  director  must  cure  be- 
fore starting  serious  work.  They  are  working 
for  love  of  the  theatre,  and  not  for  pay;  and  their 
acting  is  therefore  less  likely  to  be  perfunctory. 
They  are  as  a  class  far  better  educated  and  bet- 
ter bred  than  the  usual  actor,  and  so  they  more 
easily  grasp  the  essential  idea  of  art  theatre  pro- 
duction. It  is  necessary  to  add  that  in  most  ama- 
teur companies  there  is  a  sprinkling  of  players 
with  more  or  less  professional  experience.  At 
Detroit  certain  ones  had  been  with  travelling  and 
stock  companies,  others  had  played  bits  here  and 
there,  and  many,  of  course,  had  been  leaders  in 
amateur  dramatic  clubs.  In  other  words,  the  av- 
erage player  in  such  a  company  as  that  at  the  Arts 
and  Crafts  Theatre  does  not  come  to  the  director 
as  raw  material.  If  he  needs  an  actor  with  the 
professional  trick,  to  "carry"  a  scene,  one  is  at 
hand;  and  if  he  wants  the  sincerity,  the  fresh 
charm  and  the  intelligence  of  amateurs  with  a 
stage  sense,  he  is  likely  to  be  over-supplied.  In 
every  American  city  there  is  this  two-fold  source : 

117 


The  Art  Theatre 

first,  a  group  of  intelligent,  if  untrained,  amateurs 
who  at  least  have  a  feeling  for  stage  work;  and 
second,  a  group  of  men  and  women  with  pro- 
fessional experience,  who  have  left  the  stage  to 
marry  and  settle  down,  or  because  they  found 
life  in  the  commercial  theatre  uncongenial. 

Perhaps  the  weightiest  argument  against  the  use 
of  amateur  players  is  in  the  lack  of  directors  who 
combine  a  knowledge  of  the  art  of  acting  with 
an  understanding  of  the  newer  ideals  of  stag- 
ing. For  unless  the  actors  are  trained  by  some 
one  with  ability  as  an  artist  and  with  long  experi- 
ence of  the  stage,  they  either  remain  patently  un- 
trained or  else  become  poor  manipulators  of  the 
professional's  bag  of  tricks.  The  other  serious 
argument  against  unpaid  amateur  players  is  that 
they  cannot  be  depended  upon  for  continuous 
work  throughout  the  season.  Family,  business 
and  social  obligations  may  call  them  from  the 
theatre  at  critical  moments.  There  is  also  a  rea- 
sonable limit  to  the  number  of  performances  they 
can  be  asked  to  give  in  any  one  month,  thus 
limiting  the  theatre  to  peripatetic  productions. 
By  casting  plays  with  one  group  the  first  month 
and  utilizing  a  different  group  the  second,  and 
alternating  as  necessary,  a  regular  schedule  of 
say  one  week's  productions  each  month  can  be 
counted  on.  But  the  fact  remains  that  it  will  be 
118 


Acting  and  Actors 

impossible  to  take  the  final  step  toward  the  es- 
tablishment of  an  art  theatre  playing  a  continu- 
ous season  without  adopting  a  system  under 
which  actors  are  paid.  On  the  other  hand  it  is 
well  to  remember  that  practically  all  the  progres- 
sive theatres  in  Europe  started  with  scattered  per- 
formances. 

Just  here  it  is  necessary  to  enquire  what  dis- 
tinguishes amateur  actors  from  professionals. 
The  original  connotation  of  the  word  "amateur," 
of  one  who  loves  his  work,  must  not  be  overlooked. 
The  true  amateur  of  the  theatre  is  the  man  or 
woman  who  acts  for  love  of  the  art,  and  not 
primarily  as  a  means  of  support.  There  can  be 
no  hard  and  fast  line  drawn,  with  the  amateurs 
grouped  on  one  side  because  they  do  not  receive 
pay,  and  the  professionals  on  the  other  because 
they  are  financially  reimbursed  for  their  appear- 
ances. It  is  rather  a  matter  of  the  spirit  in  which 
one  approaches  the  work.  To  my  mind  the  Chi- 
cago Little  Theatre  company  is  distinctly  amateur 
— I  say  so  in  praise  and  not  in  disparagement. 
Despite  the  fact  that  the  players  receive  a  small 
wage,  they  are  held  together  primarily  by  a  pas- 
sion for  the  art  of  the  theatre.  There  is  no  temp- 
tation for  them  to  become  mere  time-servers,  for 
them  to  stoop  to  the  commercial-professional's 
vice  of  learning  the  tricks  that  will  bring  the 

119 


The  Art  Theatre 

most  money.  They  have  passed  the  early  stages 
of  amateurism,  so  that  their  work  for  a  cause  is 
both  recognized  and  stabilized  by  the  payment 
of  a  small  monetary  return;  they  are  on  the  road 
to  the  best  sort  of  professionalism,  in  which  serv- 
ice to  art  is  rewarded  by  a  reasonable  means  to 
living.     But  they  remain  amateurs  in  spirit. 

In  paying  his  players  Maurice  Browne  has 
avoided,  as  no  other  little  theatre  director  has,  the 
disadvantages  implied  in  Sam  Hume's  theory  that 
a  progressive  theatre  can  obtain  better  results 
with  the  best  unpaid  amateurs  than  with  the  sort 
of  professional  it  can  afford  to  employ.  Browne 
has  accomplished  this  because,  when  he  was  able 
to  pay,  he  did  not  turn  to  the  professional  market, 
but  continued  with  his  amateurs.  While  he  has 
not  built  up  a  company  that  is  ideal  according  to 
art  theatre  standards,  he  has  made  such  progress 
in  attaining  co-ordination  and  unity  of  mood  in 
acting  that  his  opinion  concerning  amateurs  is 
worth  quoting.  Four  years  ago  he  wrote: 
"Professional  actors  and  actresses,  all  of  them 
incidentally  once  amateurs  themselves,  are  care- 
fully trained  in  certain  stage-conventions,  which 
after  a  time  become  second  nature  to  them;  these 
conventions  are  different  from  the  new  stage  con- 
ventions which  the  leaders  of  the  Art  Theatre 
movement  are  inventing,  and  therefore  those 
120 


Acting  and  Actors 

trained  in  them  are  not  directly  helpful  to  such 
leaders,  just  as  a  man  trained  in  classics  is  not 
directly  helpful  to  a  bridge  builder;  their  uses 
are  different.  And,  just  as  a  bridge  builder 
would  sooner  have  for  pupil  a  boy  without  any 
training  than  a  boy  with  a  training  alien  to  his 
own,  so  the  director  of  an  Art  Theatre  prefers  to 
have  players  without  any  training  (i.e.,  amateurs) 
than  players  trained  in  an  alien  convention. 
Moreover,  the  professional,  so-called,  in  any  walk 
of  life,  usually  works  primarily  for  money,  while 
the  amateur,  so-called,  that  is  to  say  the  volunteer, 
works  primarily  for  love  of  the  work." 

It  is  well  to  remind  ourselves  just  here  that 
both  the  theatre  of  the  Irish  Players  and  the  Mos- 
cow Art  Theatre  had  their  beginnings  in  amateur 
organizations.  It  seems  likely  that  our  American 
art  theatres  will  grow  from  the  same  foundation 
— that  Hume  and  Browne  with  their  amateur 
players  will  rear  institutions  more  lasting  and 
more  important  than  those  initiated  by  such  well- 
meaning  reformers  as  the  founders  of  the  New 
Theatre  in  New  York.  It  is  probable,  further, 
that  such  an  early  abandonment  of  the  amateur 
basis  as  that  effected  by  the  Washington  Square 
Players  will  prove  exceedingly  unwise.  It  neces- 
sarily entails  surrender  to  many  stultifying  con- 
ventions of  the  commercial  theatre.     The  ama- 

121 


The  Art  Theatre 

teur  spirit,  love  of  the  art,  will  be  the  foundation 
rock  of  the  new  edifice;  and  players  steeped  in 
a  tradition  alien  to  that  spirit  can  have  little  part 
in  the  building.  As  the  typical  art  theatre  com- 
pany develops  its  own  sort  of  professionalism, 
there  will  be  a  certain  accretion  of  players  from 
commercial  ranks — from  that  small  minority 
who  are  dissatisfied  with  the  actor's  low  estate 
under  the  business  system.  But  the  spirit  of  the 
organization  will  take  rise  in  the  qualities  and 
perceptions  of  those  of  its  members  who  preserve 
the  amateur  feeling. 

VI 

Of  the  position  of  the  actor  under  the  ultimate 
art  theatre  I  shall  have  something  to  say  in  a 
later  chapter.  But  here  I  wish  to  point  out  two 
facts:  the  degradation  from  the  position  of  artist 
to  the  position  of  a  shopkeeper  with  a  line  of 
shop-worn  goods  to  sell  has  resulted  from  an  or- 
ganization under  which  the  actor  was  relieved  of 
responsibility  and  deprived  of  direct  interest  in 
his  company's  doings;  and  second,  the  loss  of 
the  best  traditions  of  his  art  was  due  to  the  long- 
run  and  circuit  systems,  under  which  the  player 
was  denied  opportunity  to  play  varied  roles,  and 
the  leisure  and  incentive  necessary  to  make  him  a 
student  in  the  broader  sense.  These  faults  will 
122 


Acting  and  Actors 

be  corrected  in  the  art  theatre,  where  the  actor 
will  again  become  a  co-operative  partner,  if  not 
in  ownership,  at  least  in  the  artistic  administra- 
tion of  the  theatre.  He  will  be  employed  under 
annual  contract,  with  certain  pension  rights  and 
proprietary  interests  accruing  with  added  years 
of  service.  The  theatre  will  be  his  in  a  very 
true  sense,  and  it  will  secure  to  him  those  advan- 
tages of  permanency,  of  breadth  of  opportunity, 
and  of  balance  of  work  and  recreation,  which 
are  necessary  to  his  finest  development. 


123 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    QUESTION    OF    PLAYS 

THE  typical  art  theatre  play  differs  sig- 
nally from  the  typical  play  of  the  com- 
mercial theatre.  The  distinction  is  the 
same,  perhaps,  as  that  which  divides  literature 
from  journalism.  Broadway  is  concerned  with 
a  journalistic  product — direct,  obviously  appeal- 
ing, sensational,  ephemeral.  The  art  theatres  are, 
or  will  be,  devoted  primarily  to  something  subtler 
and  more  specialized  in  its  appeal.  To  define 
this  higher  type  of  drama  would  be  to  define  art — 
which  generations  of  scholars  have  failed  to  do 
clearly  and  simply.  It  has  to  do,  of  course,  with 
beauty,  truth,  seriousness.  Beyond  that  I  must 
leave  each  reader  free  to  form  his  own  exact 
boundaries  between  the  drama  of  the  art  theatre 
and  the  merely  amusing  or  shocking  or  topical 
play. 

I 

Just  as  the  newspapers  and  cheap  magazines 
occasionally  publish  poems  or  stories  or  essays 
characterized  by  real  literary  value,  so  the  busi- 
124 


The  Question  of  Plays 

ness  theatres  occasionally  mount  plays  which  be- 
long in  the  art-theatre  group.  Perhaps  it  is  true 
that  the  really  great  play,  beautifully  staged,  will 
interest  both  audiences.  But  as  a  rule  Broad- 
way plays  run  true  to  the  journalistic  type.  And 
as  a  rule  the  advanced  art  theatres  tend  to  a  type 
of  production  that  appeals  to  a  comparative  few 
— because  we  are  not  yet  a  cultured  nation.  The 
question  then  arises:  shall  the  American  embryo 
art  theatres  immediately  set  up  an  advanced  ideal 
of  play  which  will  cut  them  off  from  the  patron- 
age of  any  but  a  very  small  audience?  Or  shall 
they  compromise  by  mixing  the  journalistic  pro- 
duct with  occasional  attempts  at  the  deeply  ar- 
tistic? Or  shall  they  adopt  a  standard  of  play 
that  finds  its  level  where  the  two  sorts  meet — 
never  too  "advanced"  and  never  too  clearly  vul- 
gar? In  short,  where,  between  the  art  ideal  and 
the  amusement  ideal,  shall  the  average  little 
theatre  that  aspires  to  be  an  art  theatre  set  its 
standard  ? 

There  are  those  who  refuse  to  compromise. 
But  for  most  of  us  who  have  been  in  the  fight  it 
has  become  clear  that,  if  we  would  exist  at  all,  if 
we  object  to  going  out  of  existence  until  such  time 
as  an  inspired  millionaire  is  willing  to  stake  us 
to  pursue  the  higher  ideal,  audience  or  no  audi- 
ence, we  must  recognize  that  there  are  two  goals : 

125 


The  Art  Theatre 

one  the  immediate  establishment  of  theatres  that 
are  progressive  enough  in  choice  of  plays  and 
methods  of  staging  to  be  clearly  steps  beyond 
the  commercial  average  and  toward  a  higher 
ideal ;  and  the  other  an  ultimate  ideal  of  absolute 
art,  with  no  concession  to  popular  demand. 

n 

Sam  Hume,  in  explaining  the  success  of  the 
first  season  at  the  Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre,  lays 
great  stress  on  the  fact  that  he  fitted  the  series  of 
plays  to  the  demands  of  the  community.  His 
point  of  view  is  interesting,  particularly  in  light 
of  several  failures  that  have  occurred  in  the  little 
theatre  world  during  the  season.  "We  were  de- 
pendent," he  says,  "on  a  certain  group  of  theatre- 
goers for  our  existence.  We  were  careful,  there- 
fore, not  to  hit  over  the  heads  of  that  group.  It 
happened  to  be  an  unusually  intelligent  class,  but 
it  was  not  interested  in  the  esoteric  and  precious 
material  which  certain  little  theatres  affect.  We 
were  able  to  choose  dignified,  worth-while  plays, 
and  we  tried  to  produce  them  according  to  the 
best  ideals  of  staging.  But  we  avoided  plays  of 
very  limited  appeal.  We  made  good  because  we 
did  not  keep  too  far  ahead  of  our  audiences,  be- 
cause we  did  not  try  unduly  to  force  the  move- 
ment for  better  art  in  the  theatre." 
126 


The  Question  of  Plays 

An  analysis  of  the  season's  bills  at  the  Arts 
and  Crafts  Theatre  shows  that  only  six  of  the 
nineteen  plays  produced  were  at  all  unusual  or 
specialized  in  appeal.  One  of  these  appeared 
on  each  of  the  six  programs  of  the  season — which 
indicates  that  when  Hume  wished  to  try  some- 
thing a  little  "advanced"  on  his  audiences,  he 
sandwiched  it  between  things  of  more  obvious 
appeal.  While  trying  to  educate  his  community 
to  a  taste  for  something  different  from  the  cur- 
rent fare  of  the  commercial  theatre,  he  stayed 
close  enough  to  that  in  general  so  that  the  audi- 
ences would  not  be  driven  away  by  the  strange- 
ness of  his  offerings. 

The  one  long  play  presented  during  the  season, 
and  the  production  subjected  to  the  most  serious 
criticism  from  both  within  and  without  the  or- 
ganization, was  ''The  Chinese  Lantern,"  by  Law- 
rence Housman.  This  poetic  work  proved  not 
to  have  enough  literary  appeal  to  compensate  for 
the  lack  of  action.  Lord  Dunsany's  "The  Tents 
of  the  Arabs,"  on  the  other  hand,  with  the  beauty 
of  the  lines  fully  brought  out  through  Hume's 
careful  training  of  the  actors,  proved  that  poetry 
can  redeem  a  play  lacking  in  gripping  action  and 
appealing  story.  But  even  here  a  cleavage  in  the 
audience  was  immediately  apparent.  Most  of 
the  spectators,  be  it  said  in  praise,  were  delighted 

127 


The  Art  Theatre 

with  the  beauty  of  the  play;  but  the  others,  miss- 
ing the  appeal  of  obvious  sentiment,  emotion  and 
excitement,  and  untrained  in  appreciation  of 
spoken  poetry,  found  the  production  dull. 

The  theatre's  nearest  approach  to  the  esoteric 
came  in  the  productions  of  Maeterlinck's  "The  In- 
truder" and  Dunsany's  "The  Glittering  Gate." 
In  the  former  Hume  succeeded,  with  the  aid  of 
an  admirable  cast,  in  attaining  and  sustaining 
the  mood  of  unnatural  calm  and  brooding  mys- 
tery which  is  the  very  spirit  of  the  play;  and  in 
the  other  he  achieved  the  necessary  tension  and 
a  sense  of  detachment  from  the  world. 

These  two  plays  created  the  widest  diversity  of 
feeling  and  opinion,  some  adjudging  them  the 
high  points  of  the  season,  and  others  finding 
them  tedious  and  senseless.  But  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  in  presenting  them  the  theatre  was 
registering  most  clearly  its  advance  over  the  aver- 
age: it  was  providing,  for  those  who  cared,  a 
type  of  production  never  seen  in  the  commercial 
theatres;  and  it  was  presenting  to  the  others  a 
sort  of  play  which,  even  under  protest,  was  likely 
to  aid  ultimately  in  broadening  their  field  of  ap- 
preciation. 

The  two  greatest  novelties  of  the  series  were 
the  old  English  religious  play  "Abraham  and 
Isaac,"  and  "The  Romance  of  the  Rose,"  a  ro- 
128 


The  Question  of  Plays 

mantic  pantomime  devised  by  Sam  Hume,  with 
music  by  Timothy  M.  Spelman  2nd. 

For  the  rest,  the  season  might  have  been 
planned  almost  entirely  in  reference  to  an  ideal  of 
entertainment  untroubled  by  a  desire  for  art. 
The  only  classic  revived  was  a  sure-fire  farce 
of  Moliere,  "A  Doctor  in  Spite  of  Himself,"  and 
the  other  revival,  "The  Revesby  Sword  Play," 
was  hardly  more  than  a  divertisement  in  folk 
dancing.  The  poetic  trend  was  continued,  in  a 
way,  in  Kenneth  Sawyer  Goodman's  two  slight 
fantasies,  "The  Wonder  Hat"  and  "Ephraim  and 
the  Winged  Bear."  Of  the  plays  tending  toward 
serious  realism  only  Susan  Glaspell's  "Trifles" 
rose  above  the  ordinary,  both  "The  Bank  Ac- 
count" and  "The  Last  Man  In"  being  effective 
examples  of  "the  play  with  a  punch,"  without 
notable  literary  value  or  serious  character-study. 
Of  plays  of  lighter  type  the  choice  ranged  from 
such  excellent  artificial  farce-comedy  as  Dun- 
sany's  "The  Lost  Silk  Hat"  and  Hankin's  "The 
Constant  Lovers,"  through  the  more  satirical 
"Suppressed  Desires,"  to  such  pleasant  foolish- 
ness as  "Helena's  Husband." 

As  a  whole  it  is  not  a  list  that  would  do  credit 
to  a  mature  art  theatre.  Plays  of  a  passing  vogue 
or  distinctly  light  in  appeal  are  in  the  majority. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  is  a  list  that  bespeaks  a 

129 


The  Art  Theatre 

clear  advance  beyond  the  standards  of  the  com- 
mercial theatre.  It  is  a  working  illustration  of 
Hume's  theory:  keep  ahead  of  business  stand- 
ards, but  never  go  so  far  into  untried  fields  or 
toward  the  art  of  particularized  appeal,  that  the 
audiences  of  the  moment  will  be  antagonized. 

in 

Considered  by  no  other  standard  than  the  type 
of  play  produced,  the  Chicago  Little  Theatre  is 
incomparably  the  closest  American  approach  to 
an  art  theatre.  Its  productions  have  come  meas- 
urably near  the  art  that  appeals  to  a  highly 
cultivated  audience,  to  the  sort  of  audience  that 
already  exists  in  large  numbers  in  certain  parts  of 
Europe,  but  which  has  yet  to  be  developed  in 
most  American  cities.  An  analysis  of  its  list  of 
plays  shows  that  Maurice  Browne  has  preferred 
to  strike  direct  to  the  ultimate  goal  as  he  has  seen 
it.  He  refused  to  compromise  for  the  sake  of 
conciliating  audiences  or  critics. 

The  list  of  productions  at  Chicago  is  far  more 
impressive  than  that  of  the  Arts  and  Crafts 
Theatre.  In  the  five  seasons  since  its  founding 
the  proportion  of  poetic  and  fantastic  plays  has 
not  been  considerably  greater  than  at  Detroit. 
But  the  selection  has  been  more  revolutionary, 
including  such  names  as  Euripides  (in  Gilbert 
130 


The  Question  of  Plays 

Murray's  remarkable  translations),  Yeats,  and 
Synge;  and  original  productions  of  plays  by 
American  authors  have  been  made  with  the  par- 
ticular object  of  finding  a  typical  art-theatre  type 
of  play.  In  the  non-poetic  or  less  poetic  groups, 
moreover,  the  Chicago  Little  Theatre  list  tends 
far  more  to  the  serious,  is  freer  from  mere  "fill- 
ers" than  is  the  Detroit  list.  Ibsen,  Shaw, 
Schnitzler,  Hankin,  Strindberg,  Gibson,  Wilde — 
these  are  names  which,  although  they  tend  too 
much  to  unrelieved  realism  to  suit  some  of  us, 
nevertheless  bespeak  a  preoccupation  with  what 
is  too  dignified,  too  thoughtful  and  too  true  to 
form  part  of  the  average  theatre's  repertory. 

It  would  be  idle  to  claim  that  devotion  to  a 
theory  does  not  beget  certain  advantages  artisti- 
cally. One  must  admire  any  artist  who  sets  up 
an  ideal,  and  then,  although  realizing  that  it  is 
far  beyond  the  public,  pursues  it  uncompromis- 
ingly, in  the  face  of  public  apathy,  and  in  spite 
of  criticism  both  fair  and  unfair.  And  there  are 
definite  advantages  to  the  particular  theatre  and 
to  the  art  theatre  movement  in  general.  Thus 
the  Chicago  Little  Theatre  will  always  be  known 
as  a  pioneer  in  the  search  for  a  characteristic  art- 
theatre  technique.  It  aided  the  whole  movement 
through  its  pioneering  activities  and  it  gained  a 
lasting  distinction  thereby. 

131 


The  Art  Theatre 

But  there  are  disadvantages,  too,  and  these 
are  such  that  they  make  one  wonder  whether  the 
shortest  route  to  the  ideal  is  not  through  a  more 
gradual  progress — whether  Hume  is  not  right  in 
the  assertion  that  we  must  speak  at  first  in  a  lan- 
guage which  sizable  audiences  can  understand, 
and  then  develop  the  community  with  the  theatre 
as  the  artistic  standards  are  raised.  The  Chi- 
cago Little  Theatre  has  gained  a  reputation  for 
a  greatly  restricted  appeal;  it  is  known  as  a 
theatre  for  a  specialized  audience,  if  not  for  a 
cult,  and  this  has  militated  against  its  wider  ac- 
tivity as  a  community  venture;  and  it  would 
doubtless  tend  to  prevent  Maurice  Browne  from 
obtaining  the  directorship  of  a  municipal  theatre 
if  the  Chicago  millionaires  or  voters  were  ready  to 
build  one — although  he  would  be  the  logical  man, 
if  the  theatre  were  designed  to  be  an  art  institu- 
tion. Thus  does  unbending  devotion  to  an  ideal 
tend  to  estrange  an  artist  or  an  institution  from 
the  public. 

But  there  is  a  more  serious  practical  lesson  to 
be  learned  from  the  Chicago  Little  Theatre's  five 
years'  experience.  It  is  that  typical  art-theatre 
plays  of  the  advanced  type  are  likely  to  lead  to 
financial  ruin.  There  has  been  an  unwholesome 
air  of  financial  insecurity  about  the  Chicago 
project,  which  is  to  be  laid  partially  to  the  failure 
132 


The  Question  of  Plays 

to  choose  plays  which,  while  not  stooping  to  com- 
mercial standards,  would  at  least  tend  to  con- 
ciliate the  spectators.  To  put  it  rawly,  the  Chi- 
cago Little  Theatre  has  been  too  artistic  to  suc- 
ceed financially  at  our  present  stage  of  culture. 

IV 

My  own  opinion  is  that  neither  one  of  these 
theatres  has  taken  the  wisest  course.  While  I 
have  no  faith  in  the  usual  interpretation  of  the 
adage  that  "the  play  must  please  the  public,"  I 
do  believe  that  the  whole  art  of  the  theatre  is  to 
a  certain  extent  conditioned  on  public  acceptance. 
But  I  believe  that  it  is  the  duty  of  the  art  theatre 
to  keep  ahead  of  its  audiences.  To  please  any 
audience,  even  the  most  intelligent,  all  the  time, 
would  be  narrowing  and  deadening.  And  to 
please  continuously  even  the  best  audiences  to 
be  gathered  in  the  average  American  city  today 
would  mean  artistic  suicide.  It  seems  to  me  that 
the  standard  at  the  Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre  dur- 
ing its  first  season  was  set  too  close  to  what  would 
please  the  average.  The  Chicago  list,  on  the 
other  hand,  gratifying  as  it  must  be  to  the  for- 
ward-looking artist  and  to  the  man  who  sees 
progress  in  experiment,  shows  too  ruthless  a  dis- 
regard for  public — even  intelligent — preferences. 
It  should  be  possible  to  make  the  majority  of  pro- 

133 


The  Art  Theatre 

ductions  touch  the  standard  set  by  the  best  things 
done  at  the  Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre — there  were 
some  that  pleased  the  audiences  and  bore  the  un- 
mistakable marks  of  serious  art ;  and  beyond  that 
majority  there  should  be  regular  excursions  into 
those  regions  in  which  we  hope  ultimately  to  make 
our  audiences  at  home,  but  which  are  now  caviare 
to  the  general.  I  insist  the  more  strongly  on  the 
necessity  of  keeping  somewhat  in  advance  of  the 
audience,  with  just  enough  concession  to  hold  the 
most  intelligent  audience,  because  this  slight  com- 
promise has  not  been  tried.  Always  there  has 
been  refusal  to  recede  at  all  from  the  high-art 
plane,  or  else  there  has  been  too  decided  a  lower- 
ing of  standards. 


When  one  turns  away  from  consideration  of 
the  practical  ideal  of  the  existing  progressive 
theatres  to  the  question  of  the  types  of  play  to  be 
seen  in  the  ultimate  mature  art  theatre,  one  finds 
even  more  puzzling  difficulties.  We  have  never 
had  repertory  art  theatres,  nor  any  sort  of  insti- 
tutions faintly  suggesting  the  dignified  subven- 
tioned  theatres  of  France  and  Germany,  and  we 
must  learn  entirely  by  experience  just  what  plays 
are  available. 

The  one  outstanding  fact  about  such  a  theatre, 
134 


The  Question  of  Plays 

however,  is  that  it  must  be  catholic  in  its  choice 
of  drama.  The  stereotyped  formulas  adopted  by 
Broadway  managers  in  judging  plays  have  been 
one  of  the  curses  of  the  commercial  system.  And 
one  recollects  that  even  the  Comedie  Francaise 
has  been  too  narrowly  national  to  serve  the  best 
interests  of  French  dramatic  art.  Variety  is 
absolutely  necessary  to  make  the  activity  of  an 
art  theatre  vital  in  its  reactions  on  the  community 
and  on  native  art.  A  repertory  should  without 
doubt  include  classic  and  modern  drama,  the 
work  of  both  foreign  and  native  dramatists,  and 
both  poetic  and  realistic  plays. 

As  to  the  classics,  one  must  remember  that  in 
the  last  decade  or  two  they  have  practically  never 
been  adequately  presented  in  America.  They 
have  been  produced  occasionally  as  cut  to  iit  a 
Broadway  star,  and  smothered  with  spectacular 
Broadway  scenery;  and  they  have  been  revived 
more  intelligently,  but  amateurishly  and  archaeo- 
logically,  at  the  colleges.  But  the  classics  in  their 
best  form  have  been  practically  unknown  in  this 
country.  To  say  that  the  public  will  not  patron- 
ize them  is  the  merest  speculation.  The  public 
has  had  no  chance  to  judge.  Under  art-theatre 
treatment,  with  the  poetry  brought  out,  and  with 
dramatic  story,  acting  and  setting  properly  inter- 
related, they  can  be  made  to  live  again  for  modem 

135 


The  Art  Theatre 

audiences.  Margaret  Anglin's  company  and  the 
Chicago  Little  Theatre  have  made  a  great  ad- 
vance in  their  productions  of  the  Greek  trage- 
dies: they  have  at  least  shown  that  when  artists 
take  up  the  plays  their  tragic  splendour  and 
trenchant  emotion  will  register  with  American 
audiences  as  with  those  of  ancient  Athens.  And 
when  William  Poel  took  one  of  the  least  interest- 
ing of  Elizabethan  comedies,  and  made  it  appeal 
to  American  audiences  merely  by  his  manner  of 
production — which  he  claimed  was  the  Eliza- 
bethan manner — he  convinced  many  progressives 
that  if  the  public  does  not  like  classics,  it  is  the 
method  of  staging  that  is  at  fault. 

Shakespeare  and  the  other  Elizabethan  drama- 
tists are  as  much  the  classics  of  the  American 
theatre  as  Moliere,  Corneille  and  Racine  are  of 
the  French.  And  so  the  American  art  theatre 
will  most  often  turn  to  Shakespeare  and  his  con- 
temporaries for  their  revivals.  But  the  best 
things  from  the  French,  German,  Spanish  and 
other  languages  will  find  place  also,  if  we  are 
wise.  And  if  the  audiences  are  not  enthusiastic 
at  first,  they  will  be  increasingly  so,  later.  In 
drama,  as  in  music,  one's  taste  improves  with  ex- 
perience of  the  best.  Appreciation  follows  op- 
portunity. 

Of  modem  plays  it  is  difficult  to  say  that  any 
136 


The  Question  of  Plays 

type  beyond  melodrama  and  farce  should  be  ex- 
cluded. The  sort  of  farce  that  brings  only  idle 
laughter,  without  any  element  of  satire  or  any 
impulse  to  thoughtful  amusement,  is  beyond  the 
bounds  of  art;  and  so  is  sheer  melodrama.  One 
might  add  that  the  play  of  pure  propaganda 
would  also  be  out  of  place  in  the  art  theatre. 
But  who  is  to  say  where  the  emotionally  effective 
and  artistically  legitimate  drama  of  thought  is  to 
be  divided  from  the  propaganda  play?  And  who 
is  to  mark  the  boundary  between  mere  naturalism 
and  inspired  realism? 

Some  people  think  that  it  is  possible  to  divide 
drama  into  two  classes,  the  play  of  beauty  and 
the  play  of  ideas;  and  they  would  have  the  art 
theatre  concerned  only  with  the  play  of  beauty. 
They  would  put  the  whole  realistic  school,  in- 
cluding Ibsen,  Shaw,  Galsworthy,  Schnitzler,  and 
many  another,  outside  the  pale.  The  question 
is  not  so  easy  of  solution. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  a  general  distinction  can 
be  made  between  a  substantially  poetic  group  of 
dramatists  and  a  typically  realistic  group;  the 
one  relies  chiefly  on  imaginative  and  literary  ap- 
peal, while  the  other,  through  its  intensive  obser- 
vation of  life,  brings  a  deep  emotional  reaction 
coupled  with  a  stimulus  to  thought.  And  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  to  keep  a  wholesome  balance 

137 


The  Art  Theatre 

we  must  have  a  great  deal  more  of  poetic  drama 
than  the  business  theatre  has  offered.  American 
theatre-goers  have  been  starved  for  imaginative 
drama  for  years.  But  we  are  already  swinging 
back  to  the  poetic.  (I  saw  seven  Dunsany  plays 
produced  last  winter.)  This  type  of  play,  more- 
over, lends  itself  better  to  art-theatre  technique 
than  any  other.  Yeats,  Synge,  Dunsany,  Mae- 
terlinck, Hauptmann,  D'Annunzio — these  are 
names  which  are  likely  to  have  large  place  in  art 
theatre  repertories,  certainly  infinitely  larger 
than  any  Broadway  manager  would  grant  pos- 
sible. Poetry  is,  indeed,  coming  to  its  own  on  the 
stage. 

On  the  other  hand,  no  art  theatre  could  today 
afford  to  cut  itself  off  from  all  that  the  realistic 
movement  has  brought  to  the  theatre.  Even 
though  I  believe  that  the  highest  forms  of  art  come 
from  the  regions  of  the  imaginative,  the  poetic  and 
the  sensuously  beautiful,  I  for  one  am  not  ready 
to  say  that  the  realistic  dramatists  are  to  be  barred 
by  organizations  actuated  solely  by  the  desire  for 
better  theatre  art.  The  aesthetic  senses  lie  so 
close  to  the  emotions  and  the  intellect  that  we  are 
likely  to  re-act  to  an  idea-play  of  Ibsen  or  Gals- 
worthy much  as  we  re-act  to  Greek  tragedy.  And 
for  most  of  us  ideas  are  among  the  most  interest- 
ing and  important  things  in  life.  So  I  would 
138 


The  Question  of  Plays 

open  the  art  theatre  even  to  the  intellectual  drama 
of  Shaw  and  Barker;^  and  after  that  would  come 
the  more  emotional  type,  where  the  idea  is  more 
leavened  with  dramatic  story — the  drama,  for  in- 
stance, of  Galsworthy,  of  Tolstoy,  and  of  Brieux 
when  he  is  least  pathological  and  most  himself. 

VI 

One  other  important  consideration  must  enter 
into  the  choice  of  plays :  the  proportion  of  native 
to  foreign  works.  Just  as  in  the  matter  of  clas- 
sics, the  list  should  be  open  to  the  widest  possible 
selection  from  the  contemporary  drama  of  other 
countries.  The  best  should  be  taken  from  Euro- 
pean dramatists,  not  only  because  for  some  years 
to  come  their  best  is  likely  to  be  better  than  our 
best,  but  also  because  we  need  to  study  their 
drama  for  an  understanding  of  those  universal 
principles  which  will  some  day  underlie  our  own. 
Just  here  it  is  well  to  remind  ourselves  that  the 
most  intensely  national  drama  of  modern  times, 
the  Irish,  found  its  finest  expression  in  the  works 
of  two  men  of  international  culture  and  training. 

^  Four  years  ago  I  wrote  that  "Getting  Married"  was  distinctly  a 
play  for  reading  and  not  for  the  stage,  and  that  Barker's  "The 
Madras  House"  was  undramatic.  My  final  conversion  came  last 
winter  when  I  saw  in  one  week  the  productions  of  "Getting 
Married"  and  Bahr's  "The  Master."  Now  I  am  so  far  won  over 
that  I  want  to  see  "The  Madras  House"  staged. 

139 


The  Art  Theatre 

Yeats  began  his  dramatic  career  in  London,  and 
knew  well  both  the  English  and  the  French  the- 
atres before  he  became  interested  in  the  project  at 
Dublin;  and  Synge  had  spent  many  years  on  the 
Continent  previous  to  his  connection  with  the 
Irish  National  Theatre.  An  understanding  in- 
ternationalism is  the  soundest  basis  for  an  inspir- 
ing nationalism,  in  art  as  in  politics. 

But  while  opening  our  theatres  so  freely  to 
foreign  artists,  we  must  remember  that  the  de- 
velopment of  American  drama  depends  largely 
upon  the  encouragement  offered  native  play- 
wrights. We  have  seen  how  the  commercializa- 
tion of  the  playhouse  deprived  the  aspiring  play- 
wright of  all  laboratory  facilities.  While  we 
cannot  afford  to  lower  art-theatre  standards  to 
those  of  the  new  laboratory  theatres,  such  as  that 
of  the  Provincetown  Players,  we  must  recognize 
that  every  schedule  of  productions  should  make 
room  for  a  certain  number  of  native  pieces.  The 
knowledge  that  such  theatres  await  plays  of  merit 
will  spur  dramatists  to  do  a  serious  sort  of  work, 
which  would  never  be  called  forth  by  the  demands 
of  the  business  playhouse.  The  Abbey  Theatre 
so  inspired  a  generation  of  Irish  writers  that  an 
entire  new  dramatic  literature  resulted. 

It  is  not  probable  that  we  shall  have  a  national 
drama  in  the  Irish  sense,  or  even  in  the  French 
140 


The  Question  of  Plays 

sense.  As  a  federated  group-nation,  without  a 
single  art  capital — New  York  is  hardly  more  than 
a  centre  of  business  art — we  cannot  expect  to 
have  the  intense  national  feeling  which  would 
bring  forth  a  deeply  characteristic  body  of  drama. 
It  is  more  likely  that  we  shall  have  a  sectional 
drama,  of  New  England,  of  the  Middle  West,  of 
the  Far  West,  and  this  collectively  may  have  a 
definite  note  which  can  be  recognized  as  Ameri- 
can. If  so,  it  is  even  more  imperative  that  the 
sectional  art  theatres  provide  the  native  play- 
wright with  facilities  for  staging  really  meritori- 
ous work. 

The  Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre  in  its  first  season 
staged  only  one  play  by  a  Michigan  author,  and 
only  eight  of  its  nineteen  plays  were  American. 
The  record  shows  too  little  interest  in  the  develop- 
ment of  a  local  or  national  drama.  The  Chi- 
cago Little  Theatre  likewise  has  been  concerned 
a  little  too  exclusively  with  foreign  plays.  The 
average  maintained  by  the  Washington  Square 
Players  has  been  much  better.  In  the  preface  to 
"Washington  Square  Plays"  Edward  Goodman 
writes:  "So  far  [1916]  we  have  produced 
thirty-two  plays,  of  one-act  and  greater  length, 
and  of  these  twenty  have  been  American.  The 
emphasis  of  our  interest  has  been  on  the  Ameri- 
can playwright." 

141 


The  Art  Theatre 

I  realize  fully  that  the  really  good  drama  by 
an  American  is  rare;  and  that  in  the  field  of  the 
one-act  play  especially  there  are  many  more  satis- 
fying examples  to  be  drawn  from  English  and 
foreign  repertories.  But  I  want  just  a  little  prej- 
udice for  the  native  playwright  at  this  stage  of 
development,  a  tendency  to  put  his  fairly  good 
play  on  the  boards  in  preference  to  a  foreign 
work  that  is  just  a  little  better.  Through  his 
experience  of  the  stage  this  time  he  is  likely  to 
equal  his  European  rival  next  time. 

I  believe  that  the  development  of  a  large  body 
of  important  American  drama  is  only  a  matter 
of  time.  Already  we  have  material  not  unworthy 
of  an  art  theatre's  repertory.  One  might  start 
the  list  with  a  few  works  which  no  one  would 
challenge,  such  as  "The  Yellow  Jacket"  and  "The 
Poor  Little  Rich  Girl."  Then  there  are  many 
plays  which,  while  doubtless  subject  to  minority 
objection,  are  well  worthy  of  revival — poetic 
works  like  Percy  MacKaye's  "The  Scarecrow" 
and  Mrs.  Marks'  "The  Piper,"  and  more  realistic 
plays  like  Charles  Kenyon's  "Kindling"  and 
Augustus  Thomas'  "As  a  Man  Thinks."  Of 
course  one  must  add  "The  Great  Divide,"  and 
if  sheer  realism  is  not  debarred,  there  is  "The 
Easiest  Way."  But  I  have  more  faith  in  the  im- 
portance of  dramas  to  be  written  by  such  outsid- 
142 


The  Question  of  Plays 

ers  as  Susan  Glaspell,  Theodore  Dreiser  and 
Cloyd  Head. 

vn 

The  American  art  theatre  will,  of  course,  be  a 
repertory  theatre.  It  will  doubtless  modify  the 
repertory  plan  of  such  institutions  as  the  Comedie 
Fran(;aise,  retaining  a  certain  latitude  in  the 
length  of  run  of  a  successful  new  play.  Its 
economic  position  may  be  such  that  it  will  have 
to  keep  an  occasional  success  on  the  boards  for 
several  weeks.  But  it  should  never  offer  less 
than  a  certain  scheduled  number  of  plays  in  a 
season;  and  it  must  gradually  build  up  a  group 
of  plays  for  revival,  covering  classic  and  modern. 
Only  thus  can  it  fulfil  its  true  function  as  an 
institution  serving  a  community  in  relation  to 
theatre  art  as  the  art  gallery  serves  it  in  relation 
to  painting  and  sculpture.  Repertory  organiza- 
tion brings  its  serious  problems,  particularly 
where  there  is  competition  with  the  commercial 
long-run  system.  But  only  through  its  advan- 
tages, its  method  of  conserving  the  best  plays  out 
of  the  theatres  of  the  past  and  present,  can  we 
hope  to  combat  effectively  the  narrowing  influence 
of  the  business  theatre. 


143 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  QUESTION  OF  STAGE  SETTINGS 

BECAUSE  the  art-theatre  ideal  demands 
that  every  element  that  goes  to  make  up  a 
production  shall  contribute  to  the  crea- 
tion of  a  single  mood,  it  is  necessary  that  the  older 
methods  of  stage  setting — which  are  still  the 
methods  of  most  commercial  theatres — be  dis- 
carded. The  grossly  unnatural,  the  literal,  and 
the  spectacular  modes  of  scene-building  must  give 
way  before  a  stagecraft  which  finds  its  foundation 
principles  in  the  synthetic  ideal:  a  stagecraft 
which  is  marked  by  the  most  typical  character- 
istics of  the  new  art  of  the  theatre — suggestion, 
imaginative  invention,  atmospheric  beauty,  sub- 
ordination of  specific  interest  to  creation  of  mood. 
It  happens  that  in  the  one  direction  of  stage 
decoration  the  American  progressive  theatres 
have  made  more  progress  than  in  any  other; 
they  are  already  in  possession  of  a  fair  under- 
standing of  the  principles  of  the  new  staging,  and 
they  have  developed  a  considerable  amount  of 
144 


The  Question  of  Stage  Settings 

talent  of  art-theatre  calibre.  America  has  no 
stage  artists  of  the  measure  of  Craig  or  Appia, 
nor  any  whose  lustre  would  not  be  dimmed  beside 
half  a  dozen  of  the  Germans  and  Russians;  but 
six  or  eight  may  fairly  be  termed  enlightened  ex- 
ponents of  art-theatre  methods,  and  dependable 
craftsmen  in  the  new  field. 


The  older  style  of  stage  setting  was  based  on 
a  literal  transcription  into  paint,  canvas  and 
properties  of  certain  facts  set  down  in  a  play- 
wright's stage  directions.  If  doors  were  called 
for,  doors  were  cut  in  walls,  but  with  little  re- 
gard for  scale  or  for  proportion  of  wall  space  to 
openings;  and  windows,  mantels  and  other  ac- 
cessories were  supplied  as  a  builder  might  supply 
them  without  an  architect's  help.  The  result 
usually  was  architecturally  and  materially  cor- 
rect. If  the  designer  wished  to  add  something  by 
way  of  decoration  it  was  entirely  in  the  nature  of 
ornament  stuck  on.  In  other  words,  the  designer 
of  stage  settings  never  made  his  scene  spiritually 
true  to  the  inner  mood  of  the  play,  but  only  ma- 
terially true  to  its  practical  demands;  he  seldom 
made  it  structurally  decorative,  but  only  built  up 
something  spectacular  and  decorative  from  his 
own  standpoint,  and  not  at  all  related  to  the  spirit- 

145 


The  Art  Theatre 

ual  content  of  the  drama.  The  methods  used, 
moreover,  were  absurdly  artificial.  Supposedly 
wooden  walls  quaked  at  the  slightest  touch,  broad 
landscapes  wrinkled  in  the  breeze,  ships  cast  gro- 
tesque shadows  on  the  sky,  furniture  was  even 
painted  on  the  walls,  and  the  woodwork  had 
painted  lights  and  shadows  that  never  matched 
the  surrounding  real  light  and  shade.  These  and 
similar  crudities  were  accepted  as  necessary  ac- 
companiments of  the  art  of  stage  setting.  It  was 
not  the  artificiality  of  art — the  conventionalized 
symbol  taking  the  place  of  the  real — but  the  ar- 
tificiality of  incompetence,  which  an  amiable 
public  accepted  because  it  could  not  help  itself. 

The  staging  of  a  generation  ago  was  so  very 
bad  that  even  some  of  the  American  managers 
revolted  against  it.  David  Belasco,  with  his 
passion  for  thoroughness,  was  particularly  instru- 
mental in  giving  a  certain  substantial  illusion  to 
the  box-set  interior,  and  eliminating  the  most 
grossly  artificial  features  from  exteriors.  But 
this  revolt  was  solely  in  the  direction  of  natural- 
ism. It  did  not  start  w4th  the  desire  to  bring  the 
setting  into  closer  harmony  with  the  spirit  of  the 
play,  but  only  with  the  object  of  making  the  scene 
more  natural.  It  removed  the  worst  absurdities 
of  Nineteenth  Century  staging;  but  in  its  later 
elaboration  it  provided  distractions  quite  as  for- 
146 


The  Question  of  Stage  Settings 

eign  to  the  substance  of  the  drama.  In  the  pur- 
suit of  the  natural,  Belasco  and  others  began  to 
build  scenes  so  finely  imitative,  so  true  to  the 
surface  appearances  of  life,  that  the  audience 
forgot  the  play  in  wonder  at  the  photographic 
perfection  of  the  setting. 

The  revolt  of  the  artists,  beginning  with  Craig 
and  Appia,  and  coming  down  through  the  Ger- 
man theatres,  and  now  reflected  in  America  in 
the  work  of  such  artists  as  Robert  Edmond  Jones, 
Raymond  Johnson  and  Sam  Hume,  was  against 
both  the  artificiality  of  the  older  theatre  and  the 
naturalism  of  the  Belasco  group.  The  aim  of 
the  newly  conceived  stagecraft  was  to  bring  the 
setting  into  definite  spiritual  harmony  with  the 
play.  Suggestion  was  substituted  for  imitation, 
creation  of  atmosphere  was  considered  more  im- 
portant than  indication  of  a  definite  locality,  and 
the  appeal  of  the  setting  was  subordinated  to  the 
synthetic  appeal  of  the  production  as  a  whole,  by 
simplification  and  conventionalization.  Where 
visual  beauty  was  the  aim  of  the  dramatist  and 
artist-director,  the  setting  became  a  thing  of 
beauty  predicated  upon  the  mood  of  the  play ;  and 
its  decorative  quality  grew  out  of  skilful  compo- 
sition of  line  and  mass,  subtle  use  of  colour,  and 
a  system  of  lighting  that  tended  more  to  artistic 
expressiveness  than  to  mere  naturalness. 

147 


The  Art  Theatre 

n 

In  order  to  differentiate  art-theatre  methods  of 
stage  setting  from  other  phases  of  stage  design, 
which  are  not  less  new  but  still  inapplicable  to  the 
special  problem  presented  by  synthetic  produc- 
tion, it  is  necessary  to  outline  three  tendencies  of 
modern  stagecraft:  the  improved  pictorial,  the 
plastic  and  the  decorative. 

I  wish  to  write  of  the  pictorial  phase  first  be- 
cause it  can  quickly  be  dismissed  when  one  is 
concerned  only  with  forces  that  will  count  in  the 
art  theatre.  Certain  Russian  designers  have  de- 
veloped a  wonderfully  brilliant  technique  in 
painting  scenery.  They  accept  the  old  theatre 
convention  which  said  that  an  exterior  setting 
must  be  done  in  painted  perspective  on  canvas. 
In  other  words,  they  still  consider  the  stage  scene 
a  glorified  easel  picture.  Some  of  their  settings 
are  among  the  richest  and  most  interesting  of  the 
creations  masquerading  under  the  name  of  the 
new  stagecraft.  But  they  really  have  nothing  to 
do  with  the  most  typical  phases  of  the  new  move- 
ment. They  mark  merely  the  perfection  of  a 
process  that  will  never  give  absolute  satisfaction 
in  the  theatre.  They  are  infinitely  better  than 
the  settings  in  the  same  method  which  used  to  fill 
all  our  theatres,  because  they  are  painted  by  art- 
148 


The  Question  of  Stage  Settings 

ists  instead  of  sign  painters.  But  two  points  are 
to  be  noted  about  them:  First,  they  employ 
painted  perspective  in  the  backgrounds,  and  this 
will  never  prove  entirely  satisfying  on  the  stage; 
for  no  matter  how  cunningly  the  artist  may  work 
to  hide  all  traces  of  the  incongruity,  there  will  al- 
ways be  a  disillusioning  difference  between  the 
real  perspective  of  the  foreground  and  the  painted 
perspective  at  the  back — and  audiences  will  be 
less  and  less  tolerant  of  this  absurdity  as  they  be- 
come trained  in  appreciation  of  the  plastic,  per- 
spective-less method.  And  second,  these  artists 
are  employing  a  purely  representative  method: 
instead  of  placing  backgrounds  and  objects  on  the 
stage,  or  suggesting  these  things  by  concrete 
means,  they  attempt  to  represent  them  by  the  il- 
lustrator's method,  which  properly  has  no  place 
in  the  theatre.  One  might  quite  as  rationally 
paint  objects  into  the  background  of  a  statue 
or  sculptured  frieze.  The  painter,  indeed,  has 
proven  himself  inadequate  to  the  tasks  of  the 
theatre;  and  the  designer  for  the  stage  of  the  fu- 
ture will  need  the  training  of  architect,  sculptor 
and  interior  decorator  rather  than  that  of  the 
present-day  painter — training  in  arrangement  of 
line  and  mass,  modelling  of  form,  and  harmony 
of  flat  colour-tones. 

For  my  part,  I  believe  that  within  not  so  very 

149 


The  Art  Theatre 

many  years  the  painted-perspective  background 
will  be  as  clearly  ridiculous  and  out-of-date  in  a 
stage  production  as  the  soliloquy  and  aside  are 
in  modern  playwriting.  I  know  that  ninety- 
nine  out  of  every  hundred  of  the  so-called  artists 
on  Broadway  would  call  me  crazy  if  I  repeated 
that  statement  to  them.  But  I  do  not  base  the 
contention  on  mere  theorizing — although  I  was 
convinced  of  the  soundness  of  the  theory  of  plas- 
tic setting  several  years  ago.  I  have  seen  both 
sorts  in  large  and  small,  and  the  plastic  is  so  far 
superior  by  every  measurement  that  its  time  is 
sure  to  come.  In  at  least  two  of  the  most  pro- 
gressive theatres  in  this  country,  the  Arts  and 
Crafts  Theatre  in  Detroit  and  the  Los  Angeles 
Little  Theatre,  not  a  single  painted-perspective 
scene  was  used  during  the  season  of  1916-17; 
and  I  doubt  whether  a  painted  drop  has  been 
shown  in  the  Chicago  Little  Theatre  in  all  the 
years  of  its  existence.  And  these  are  only  signs 
of  a  widespread  development.  Practically  every 
member  of  the  small  group  of  deeply-thinking, 
far-seeing  artist- workmen  on  the  American  stage 
has  repudiated  the  painted-perspective  theory  and 
method.  Certainly  Raymond  Johnson,  Sam 
Hume,  Norman-Bel  Geddes  and  Robert  Edmond 
Jones  have — and  that  represents  some  of  the 
soundest  opinion  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  I 
150 


The  Question  of  Stage  Settings 

think  that  Joseph  Urban  alone  among  the  im- 
portant stage  decorators  in  America  occasionally 
reverts  to  the  easel-painter's  system. 

Ill 

The  plastic  method  of  setting,  which  has  so 
largely  replaced  the  pictorial  method  in  the  pro- 
gressive theatres  of  both  Europe  and  America, 
implies  primarily  that  the  artist  shall  work  with 
things  in  the  round  instead  of  painting  their  sem- 
blances on  a  flat  canvas.  Such  objects  and  back- 
grounds as  he  can  bring  to  the  stage  in  character- 
istic form,  without  suggesting  a  display  of  virtu- 
osity, are  brought  there ;  such  others  as  cannot  be 
shown  in  plastic  form  are  suggested  by  concrete 
means,  and  not  by  pictorial  representation.  If  a 
church  scene  is  needed,  the  artist  does  not  paint 
a  picture  of  a  church  for  a  background,  but  sets 
up  a  single  pillar  or  archway,  which  in  its  archi- 
tecture and  its  arrangement  of  aspiring  lines 
suggests  the  calm  dignity  and  heavy  solemnity  of 
a  church.  If  a  forest  scene  is  called  for,  the  art- 
ist no  longer  paints  a  canvas  with  a  multitude 
of  trees,  each  branch  and  leaf  accurately  drawn; 
he  is  more  likely  to  arrange  a  series  of  cloth  strips 
in  place  of  tree  trunks,  and  then  light  the  stage 
so  subtly  that  the  mystery  and  depth  of  a  forest 
are  atmospherically  suggested.     If  he  has  a  mod- 

151 


The  Art  Theatre 

ern  room  to  show,  he  discards  all  painted  relief, 
such  as  mouldings,  doorframes,  mantels,  etc.,  and 
simplifies  lines,  masses  and  furnishings — con- 
ventionalizes the  room  by  reducing  it  to  the  sim- 
plest form  in  which  it  will  evoke  the  proper  at- 
mosphere. The  new  stage  artist  seldom  gets 
away  from  the  use  of  canvas  flats;  they  are  still 
the  lightest  and  most  easily  manipulated  material 
for  stage  building.  But  he  paints  no  objects  on 
the  canvas — he  paints  it  instead  in  flat  colour. 
His  canvas  flat  thus  appears  on  the  stage  as  one 
side  of  a  solid,  and  not  as  a  picture  representing 
two  or  more  sides  in  perspective. 

The  reader  who  still  finds  the  distinction  be- 
tween the  plastic  and  pictorial  methods  puzzling 
will  do  well  to  compare  the  illustrations  appear- 
ing in  this  book  with  those  to  be  found  in  the 
usual  dramatic  magazine  or  book.  Not  only 
are  all  the  scenes  shown  herewith  free  from 
painted  perspective,  but  in  most,  no  paint  was 
used  except  in  flat  mass  as  one  would  paint  a 
house-wall.  Of  the  two  noticeable  exceptions, 
the  settings  for  "The  Constant  Lover"  and  "The 
Lost  Silk  Hat,"  where  a  conventionalized  tree  and 
vines  have  been  painted,  I  shall  have  more  to  say 
in  a  moment. 


152 


The  Question  of  Stage  Settings 

IV 

When  the  reformers  got  rid  of  the  artificialities 
of  the  pictorial  stage  setting,  they  at  first  accepted 
a  plastic  stage  barren  of  any  sort  of  decorative 
intent.  The  action  is  what  counts,  they  said; 
and  they  proceeded  to  strip  the  stage  of  everything 
that  might  prove  an  interruption  to  interest  in  the 
action.  Some  advocated  a  return  to  the  Eliza- 
bethan stage,  others  adopted  curtain  back- 
grounds ;  but  all  came  sooner  or  later  to  the  real- 
ization that  a  merely  neutral  background  only 
does  half  its  duty  to  the  production.  It  is  in- 
finitely better  than  the  old  setting  that  interfered 
with  the  action  by  distracting  the  spectator's  at- 
tention to  foreign  matters ;  but  it  adds  nothing  to 
the  total  appeal. 

In  the  plays  produced  with  the  new  ideal  in 
mind  the  setting  has  a  definite  decorative  func- 
tion. The  point  to  be  remembered  is  that  the 
decorative  quality  must  take  its  rise  in  the  milieu 
of  the  play.  It  must  say  to  the  eye  what  the 
poetry  of  the  play  says  to  the  ear.  The  dec- 
orative note  must  be  there,  whether  it  be  in  the 
atmospheric  lighting  effects  of  Appia,  or  in  the 
mysterious  masses  of  light  and  shade  created  by 
Craig's  manipulation  of  screens,  or  in  the  gor- 
geous halls  and  palaces  of  Urban. 

153 


The  Art  Theatre 

This  decorative  tendency  is  what  is  implied  in 
the  word  stylization  as  applied  to  stage  setting. 
But  when  one  speaks  of  stylization  it  is  immed- 
iately necessary  to  defend  one's  position  against 
two  sorts  of  misconception :  first  that  stylization  is 
typified  by  Reinhardt's  ruthless  method  of  trans- 
forming a  Greek  play  into  a  Reinhardtian  circus 
performance;  and  second,  that  it  provides  a 
method  of  overwhelming  a  good  play,  or  redeem- 
ing a  poor  one,  by  sets  that  are  a  show  in  them- 
selves. This  danger  of  overdoing  the  setting 
will  always  be  inherent  in  the  decorative  method 
to  a  certain  extent ;  and  for  this  reason  a  number 
of  managers  and  critics  who  examined  the  case 
hastily  and  insisted  upon  judging  by  extreme  ex- 
amples, have  started  a  definite  re-action  against 
the  whole  new  movement.  What  they  failed  to 
see  is  that  this  new  phase  of  art,  like  many  an- 
other, is  valid  only  when  practised  by  artists  of 
the  deeper  vision — in  this  case,  when  practised 
under  the  control  of  artist-directors  who  have  the 
impression  of  the  ensemble  of  play,  acting  and 
staging  at  heart. 

Stylization  of  setting,  according  to  my  ideal,  is 
merely  a  method  of  bringing  the  scene  into  har- 
mony with  the  essential  spirit  of  the  play,  a  means 
of  beautifying  the  background  to  harmonize  with 
the  beauty  of  the  poetry  and  the  action.  By  his 
154 


The  Question  of  Stage  Settings 

own  particular  style  of  working,  by  his  individual 
manner  of  using  line,  mass,  colour,  light  and 
shade,  the  designer  may  stamp  the  setting  with 
his  own  creative  genius;  but  it  is  not  the  best 
sort  of  stylization  unless  it  tends  to  reinforce  the 
mood  of  the  play  as  a  whole.  In  other  words,  the 
decorative  quality  of  the  setting  must  be  founded 
on  dramatic  fitness. 

The  stage  setting  for  art  theatre  production, 
then,  will  be  designed  by  artists  who  gain  decor- 
ative effect  through  plastic  mediums.  But  I  wish 
to  add  that  I  believe  there  is  a  certain  type 
of  play  in  which  more  latitude  may  be  allowed  in 
the  designing — where  a  certain  artificiality  and 
exuberance  of  fancy  may  be  carried  into  the  deco- 
rative work.  In  most  plays  for  children,  in  pure 
fantasy,  in  artificial  comedy,  in  any  production  in 
which  story  value,  dramatic  tension,  and  tense 
mood  are  less  important  than  imaginative  turns 
of  thought,  surprise  and  fanciful  suggestion,  there 
is  possibility  of  adding  to  the  play's  appeal  by  a 
compelling  symbolism  in  the  settings.  A  classic 
example  is  the  Moscow  Art  Theatre's  mounting 
of  Maeterlinck's  ''The  Blue  Bird,"  a  play  which 
is  at  least  episodic  if  not  definitely  undramatic, 
and  so  not  in  danger  of  having  its  continuity  of 
meaning  obscured  by  dynamically  interesting 
settings.     The  Moscow  artists  tried  to  visualize 

155 


The  Art  Theatre 

the  symbolism  of  the  various  scenes  in  their  back- 
grounds, with  the  result  that  the  action  progressed 
through  a  series  of  fairyland  pictures  of  a  beauti- 
fully imaginative  sort.  Perhaps  the  reader  will 
better  understand  if  I  say  that  the  settings  had 
the  unreality,  the  fancy  and  the  decorative  qual- 
ity of  Kay  Nielsen's  illustrations. 

The  settings  for  such  productions  may  legiti- 
mately be  painted,  for  here  a  certain  noticeable 
artificiality  is  not  out  of  place.  But  perspective 
work  and  purely  representative  painting  are  not 
in  keeping  with  either  the  general  requirements 
of  the  stage  or  the  spirit  of  conventional  drama. 
The  only  excuse  for  painted  scenery  is  a  rigid 
conventionalization.  So  long  as  it  has  any  real- 
istic intent  it  is  out  of  key  with  the  other  elements. 
If  we  must  still  have  painters  in  the  theatre,  they 
should  be  not  of  the  old  realistic  sort,  but  of  the 
imaginative-decorative  type.  It  is  in  the  spirit  of 
such  conventionalization  that  two  of  the  settings 
in  this  book  were  conceived.  The  painted  vines 
and  the  fanciful  tree  in  the  sets  for  "The  Lost  Silk 
Hat"  and  "The  Constant  Lover"  are  in  perfect 
keeping  with  the  spirit  of  these  extremely  artificial 
farce-comedies.^     It  seems  to  me  that  much  is  yet 

1  These  two  settings  were  designed  and  painted  by  Katherine 
McEwen,  who  worked  with  Sam  Hume  in  the  scene  department 
throughout  the  season. 

156 


The  Question  of  Stage  Settings 

to  be  done  in  this  direction  of  fanciful  staging — 
when  we  have  a  Kay  Nielsen  of  the  theatre. 


It  is  hardly  necessary  to  treat  lighting  as  a 
separate  topic.  I  have  suggested  several  times 
the  larger  place  it  assumes  in  the  new  stagecraft. 
It  is  employed  not  only  as  a  binding  force — as 
one  more  means  of  reinforcing  the  spiritual 
mood  of  the  play — ^but  also  as  a  definite  means  of 
developing  the  emotional  rhythm.  In  certain 
European  theatres  lighting  has  all  but  taken  the 
place  of  the  setting;  and  in  this  country  Urban 
and  Hume  especially  have  been  pointed  out  as 
artists  who  "paint  in  lights." 

Just  as  changes  of  feeling,  thought  and  emo- 
tion can  be  reflected  in  the  lighting  of  a  produc- 
tion, so  can  they  be  suggested  in  the  colour  ar- 
rangement. We  are  happily  rid  of  the  muddy 
colours  of  other  days,  on  the  stage  as  in  the  picture 
gallery,  and  a  whole  new  scale  of  beautiful  and 
expressive  shades  and  tones  has  been  placed  at  the 
artist's  disposal.  While  the  equipment  of  the 
progressive  theatres  in  this  country  has  not  been 
such  as  to  facilitate  experiment,  the  more  impor- 
tant designers  are  thoroughly  alive  to  the  poten- 
tiality of  colour.  I  have  seen  several  series  of 
sketches  by  Norman-Bel  Geddes  in  which  the  pro- 

157 


The  Art  Theatre 

gression  of  colour  impression  was  definitely  de- 
signed to  evoke  the  changing  moods  necessary  to 
the  drama.  And  Claude  Bragdon  is  promising  a 
more  revolutionary  use  of  imaginative  colouring 
in  productions  specially  designed  to  affect  the 
emotions  through  colour-sensibility. 

vi 

In  the  search  for  new  methods  which  will  aid 
in  bringing  unity  to  the  production,  many  devices 
of  value  to  the  art  theatre  have  been  invented. 
Certain  ones  are  purely  mechanical — the  revolv- 
ing stage  and  wagon  stage  are  examples — and 
these  for  the  most  part  are  designed  to  cut  down 
the  waits  while  settings  are  being  changed,  thus 
tending  to  eliminate  from  the  course  of  action 
breaks  long  enough  to  have  a  disillusioning  ef- 
fect. The  idea  of  suggesting  an  underlying  unity 
of  story  by  letting  certain  elements  of  the  setting 
appear  in  each  succeeding  scene,  has  been  worked 
out  by  diverse  methods.  Joseph  Urban  used 
what  he  called  a  permanent  skeleton  set  through 
all  the  acts  of  "The  Love  of  the  Three  Kings"  at 
the  Boston  Opera  House,  and  he  has  staged  sev- 
eral other  productions  with  stationary  inner  pro- 
sceniums  and  portals,  achieving  all  changes  in 
scene  by  new  elements  introduced  at  the  back  of 
the  stage.  Raymond  Johnson  has  used  a  similar 
158 


The  Question  of  Stage  Settings 

arrangement  of  permanent  fore-structure  and 
changing  inner  scene  for  some  of  the  productions 
at  the  Chicago  Little  Theatre;  and  Norman-Bel 
Geddes  has  used  a  single  set  of  screens  in  varying 
combination  for  a  play  in  seven  scenes,  at  the  Los 
Angeles  Little  Theatre.  All  these  experiments 
have  been  valuable,  showing  that  simplified  and 
standardized  settings  can  be  used  not  only  with  a 
saving  of  time  and  expense,  but  with  increased 
unity  of  feeling.  But  none  are  quite  so  sugges- 
tive, or  quite  so  valuable  to  the  American  art 
theatre  in  its  formative  years,  as  two  recent  in- 
ventions which  can  be  used  not  alone  for  the  sev- 
eral scenes  of  a  single  play,  but  for  practically 
every  scene  of  every  play  worth  producing.  One 
is  the  screen  setting,  "the  thousand  scenes  in  one 
scene,"  invented  by  Gordon  Craig;  the  other  is  the 
permanent  adaptable  setting  designed  and  built  by 
Sam  Hume,  who  adopted  Craig's  basic  theories 
and  then  worked  out  an  independent  solution  of 
the  interchangeable  setting  problem  with  different 
materials.  These  two  systems  of  building  stage 
scenes  are  of  such  practical  value  to  the  would-be 
art  theatre  that  both  demand  extended  descrip- 
tion. 


159 


The  Art  Theatre 

vn 

Gordon  Craig,  arguing  from  the  fact  that  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  of  dollars  arc  wasted  annually 
for  scenery  that  loses  all  its  value  when  the  play's 
run  is  over — and  this  for  a  type  of  scenery  that 
is  utterly  devoid  of  atmosphere,  and  usually  lack- 
ing in  artistic  value  of  any  sort, — set  out  to  dis- 
cover a  sort  of  stage  scene  that  would  be  adaptable 
for  any  poetic  production.  The  system  of  porta- 
ble folding  screens  which  resulted  from  his  years 
of  experiment  solved  the  problem  beautifully, 
providing  atmospheric  backgrounds  for  a  sur- 
prisingly wide  range  of  play,  at  exceedingly  small 
cost.  But  here  is  a  point  to  be  noted :  the  system 
is  so  simple,  so  devoid  of  trickery  and  pretentious- 
ness and  extraneous  ornament,  that  only  men  of 
deep  artistic  perception  and  delicate  vision,  only 
imaginative  artists  and  true  poets,  can  obtain  the 
best  results  from  its  use.  For  this  reason  the  in- 
vention has  not  made  its  way  into  the  commercial 
theatre,  and  probably  never  will,  despite  the  im- 
mense saving  its  use  would  entail.  In  the  Mos- 
cow Art  Theatre's  famous  production  of  "Ham- 
let" all  the  many  and  varied  changes  of  a  setting 
were  merely  re-arrangements  of  a  set  of  Craig's 
screens.  And  at  the  Abbey  Theatre  of  the  Irish 
160 


The  Question  of  Stage  Settings 

Players  the  screens  were  used  for  poetic  plays, 
with  results  which  mark  them  as  particularly 
fitted  to  bring  out  the  spiritual  mood  and  syn- 
thetic impression  which  are  the  implied  goal  of 
art  theatre  production. 

The  invention  is  described  in  The  Mask,  in  an 
unsigned  article  but  presumably  by  Gordon 
Craig,  as  follows: — 

"The  scene  is  made  up  usually  of  four,  six, 
eight,  ten  or  twelve  screens,  and,  although  some- 
times of  more  than  twelve,  seldom  less  than  four. 
Each  part  or  leaf  of  a  screen  is  alike  in  every 
particular  except  breadth,  and  these  parts  together 
form  a  screen,  composed  of  two,  four,  six,  eight 
or  ten  leaves.  These  leaves  fold  either  way  and 
are  monochrome  in  tint.  The  height  of  all  these 
screens  is  alike. 

"These  screens  are  self-supporting  and  are 
made  either  of  a  wooden  frame  covered  with  can- 
vas, or  of  solid  wood. 

"With  screens  of  narrow  dimensions  curved 
forms  are  produced,  for  large  rectangular  spaces 
broader  leaved  screens  are  used,  and  for  varied 
and  broken  forms  all  sizes  are  employed.  .  .  . 

"Sometimes  certain  additions  may  be  made  to 
this  scene,  such  as  a  flight  of  steps,  a  window,  a 
bridge,  a  balcony,  and  of  course  the  necessary 

161 


The  Art  Theatre 

furniture,  though  great  care  and  reserve  must  be 
exercised  in  making  these  additions  so  as  to  avoid 
the  ridiculous. 

"This  scene  is  a  living  thing.  In  the  hands  of 
an  artist  it  is  capable  of  all  varieties  of  expres- 
sion, even  as  a  living  voice  and  a  living  face  are 
capable  of  every  expression.  The  scene  remains 
always  the  same,  while  incessantly  chang- 
ing. ... 

"Through  its  use  we  obtain  a  sense  of  har- 
mony and  a  sense  of  variety  at  the  same  time. 
We  may  be  said  to  have  recovered  one  of  the 
unities  of  the  Greek  drama  without  losing  any  of 
the  variety  of  the  Shakespearean  drama. 

"We  pass  from  one  scene  to  another  without  a 
break  of  any  kind,  and  when  the  change  has  come 
we  are  not  conscious  of  any  disharmony  between 
it  and  that  which  has  passed." 

William  Butler  Yeats,  who  had  to  do  with 
the  screens  at  the  Abbey  Theatre,  is  quoted  in 
the  same  issue  of  The  Mask  as  follows : 

"The  scenery  differs  entirely  from  the  old  style 
of  scenery,  and  consists  chiefly  of  portable  screens, 
by  means  of  which  beautiful  decorative  effects 
can  be  obtained,  the  working  of  the  screens  being 
based  on  certain  mathematical  proportions  by 
which  the  stage  manager  can  make  walls,  pillars, 
etc.  ...  a  palace  almost  in  a  moment,  a  palace 
162 


The  Question  of  Stage  Settings 

of  great  cyclopean  proportions,  and  which  can  be 
changed  again  almost  in  a  moment  into  a  room 
with  long  corridors,  and  be  changed  again  into  a 
third  and  very  different  scene  just  as  quickly. 

"The  primary  value  of  Mr.  Craig's  invention 
is  that  it  enables  one  to  use  light  in  a  more  natural 
and  more  beautiful  way  than  ever  before.  We 
get  rid  of  all  the  top  hamper  of  the  stage — all  the 
hanging  ropes  and  scenes  which  prevent  the  free 
play  of  light.  It  is  now  possible  to  substitute  in 
the  shading  of  one  scene  real  light  and  shadow 
for  painted  light  and  shadow.  Continually,  in 
the  contemporary  theatre,  the  painted  shadow  is 
out  of  relation  to  the  direction  of  the  light,  and, 
what  is  more  to  the  point,  one  loses  the  extraor- 
dinary beauty  of  delicate  light  and  shade.  This 
means,  however,  an  abolition  of  realism,  for 
it  makes  scene-painting,  which  is,  of  course,  a 
matter  of  painted  light  and  shade,  impossible. 
One  enters  into  a  world  of  decorative  effects  which 
give  the  actor  a  renewed  importance.  There  is 
less  to  compete  against  him,  for  there  is  less  de- 
tail, though  there  is  more  beauty." 

After  the  production  of  "Hamlet"  at  Moscow 
the  correspondent  of  the  London  Times  wrote  of 
the  screens  as  follows : 

"Mr.  Craig  has  the  singular  power  of  carry- 
ing the  spiritual  significance  of  words  and  drama- 

163 


The  Art  Theatre 

tic  situations  beyond  the  actor  to  the  scene  in 
which  he  moves.  By  the  simplest  means  he  is 
able,  in  some  mysterious  way,  to  evoke  almost 
any  sensation  of  time  or  space,  the  scenes  even  in 
themselves  suggesting  variations  of  human  emo- 
tions. 

"Take,  for  example,  the  Queen's  chamber  in 
the  Castle  of  Elsinore.  Like  all  the  other  scenes, 
it  is  simply  an  arrangement  of  the  screens  already 
mentioned.  There  is  nothing  which  definitely 
represents  a  castle,  still  less  the  locality  or  period; 
and  yet  no  one  would  hesitate  as  to  its  signifi- 
cance— and  why?  Because  it  is  the  spiritual 
symbol  of  such  a  room.  A  symbol,  moreover, 
whose  form  is  wholly  dependent  upon  the  action 
which  it  surrounds;  every  line,  every  space  of 
light  and  shadow  going  directly  to  heighten  and 
amplify  the  significance  of  that  action,  and  be- 
coming thereby  something  more  than  its  mere 
setting — a  vital  and  component  part  no  longer 
separable  from  the  whole." 

The  last  lines  are  eloquent  testimony  to  the 
value  of  this  type  of  setting  as  an  integral  part 
of  the  production,  as  a  part  which,  instead  of  dis- 
turbing the  action  as  the  usual  setting  does,  con- 
tributes to  the  mood.  In  other  words,  it  is  an 
ideal  means  to  art-theatre  ends,  so  far  as  they 
concern  the  background  of  the  play. 
164 


The  Question  of  Stage  Settings 

Gordon  Craig's  screens  have  never  been  ade- 
quately tested  in  this  country.  But  some  of  the 
little  theatres  surely  will  make  adaptations  of  the 
system,  if,  indeed,  they  do  not  arrange  with  Craig 
(who  holds  patents)  for  complete  sets  according 
to  the  original  designs.  This  is  the  more  likely 
to  happen  now  that  Sam  Hume  has  made  such  a 
success  with  his  adaptable  setting  at  the  Arts  and 
Crafts  Theatre.  He  gained  inspiration  from 
Craig,  and  he  adopted  Craig's  principle  of  an 
interchangeable  scene — and  he  is  always  careful 
to  acknowledge  this  indebtedness.  But  his  suc- 
cess in  working  out  an  independent  system  sug- 
gests that  other  artist-workers  in  the  American 
theatre  may  start  with  the  same  principle  and  ar- 
rive at  somewhat  different  but  equally  satisfac- 
tory results. 

VIII 

Before  describing  Hume's  setting  in  detail,  I 
wish  to  express  my  belief  that  no  other  of  the  pro- 
gressive theatres  in  America  has  shown  a  series 
of  scenes  so  impressive  and  so  well  harmonizing 
with  the  respective  plays,  as  the  eleven  variations 
of  the  permanent  set  at  the  Arts  and  Crafts 
Theatre.  Putting  aside  consideration  of  realistic 
backgrounds  at  the  Detroit  playhouse,  and  re- 
membering that  several  of  the  permanent  setting 

165 


The  Art  Theatre 

arrangements  fell  considerably  short  of  the  ideal, 
it  is  still  clear  that  this  was  the  finest  group  of 
stage  backgrounds  yet  devised  for  a  series  of  plays 
in  an  American  theatre.  It  is  possible  to  point  to 
single  productions  of  Urban  or  Jones  or  others 
as  equalling  or  surpassing  the  average  attained 
by  Hume  at  Detroit;  but  no  consecutive  series  of 
plays  has  been  so  well  mounted.  I  know  from 
direct  comparison  that  the  Arts  and  Crafts  group 
was  far  superior  to  the  series  of  settings  for  poetic 
plays  of  the  Washington  Square  Players  and  the 
Portmanteau  Players.  The  point  to  be  remem- 
bered, if  one  is  interested  in  little  theatre  and  art 
theatre  economics,  is  this:  while  gaining  superior 
results  artistically,  Hume  spent  for  eleven  settings 
not  more  than  the  cost  of  two  average  settings  in 
these  other  theatres.  It  is  well  to  remember,  too, 
that  the  range  covered  by  the  eleven  scenes  in- 
cluded such  widely  differing  requirements  as  the 
interior  of  a  mediaeval  chateau  for  "The  In- 
truder," the  Gates  of  Thalanna  for  "The  Tents  of 
the  Arabs,"  the  wall  of  Heaven  for  "The  Glit- 
tering Gate,"  and  a  Spartan  palace  for  "Helena's 
Husband." 

The  permanent  setting  includes  the  following 

units:    four  pylons,   constructed   of   canvas   on 

wooden  frames,  each  of  the  three  covered  faces 

measuring  two  and  one-half  by  eighteen  feet ;  two 

166 


The  Question  of  Stage  Settings 


PIASTER  WAl-t 


Pt.A«TCR  WALL 


TWit-FOHM* 


J^. 


— b^B^as^U- 


THE  WONDER  HAT 


TENTS  OF  THE  ARABS 


PLASrCR.    WAUL. 


*^     51  S3       Si 


13 


r 


■^^^^•^ 


(A] 


SS 


•AKCH 


^ 


HELENA'S  HUSBAND 


THE  INTRUDER 


TLAtTpR  WALL 


EXPLANATION 
A^.CD  -  PYLONS 
51,52= 3*  5TA1R  UNITS. 
53  =  6'        - 
M,M»MASKlMft  SCT»EEWS 
Fl.F2«0RI.&triAL  PLAT5 
F5,F4  •  ADDED        - 
'*^'^*~  •  HANGINGS 


ROMANCE  OF  THE  "ROSE 


Five  arrangements  of  the  permanent  setting  at  the  Arts  and  Crafts 
Theatre. 

167 


The  Art  Theatre 

canvas  flats,  each  three  by  eighteen  feet;  two  sec- 
tions of  stairs  three  feet  long,  and  one  section  eight 
feet  long,  of  uniform  eighteen-inch  height;  three 
platforms  of  the  same  height,  respectively  six, 
eight,  and  twelve  feet  long;  dark  green  hangings 
as  long  as  the  pylons;  two  folding  screens  for 
masking,  covered  with  the  same  cloth  as  that 
used  in  the  hangings,  and  as  high  as  the  pylons; 
and  two  irregular  tree-forms  in  silhouette. 

The  pylons,  flats,  and  stairs,  and  such  added 
pieces  as  the  arch  and  window,  were  painted  in 
broken  colour,  after  the  system  introduced  by 
Joseph  Urban,  so  that  the  surfaces  would  take 
on  any  desired  colour  under  the  proper  lighting. 

The  setting  was  seen  in  its  simplest  form  in 
"The  Wonder  Hat"  on  the  opening  bill.  The  ar- 
rangement is  indicated  in  the  first  diagram.  The 
four  pylons  were  set  in  pairs  with  the  stairs  be- 
tween, with  the  curtains  and  screens  used  only  to 
frame  the  picture  at  the  sides.  The  two  flats 
were  laid  on  their  sides  to  form  the  balustrade 
back  of  the  platforms. 

For  "The  Tents  of  the  Arabs"  the  first  impor- 
tant addition  was  made  to  the  setting  in  the  form 
of  an  arch.  The  pylons,  central  stairs,  plat- 
forms, hangings,  screens  and  tree-forms  were  set 
exactly  as  in  "The  Wonder  Hat."  The  only 
changes  were  the  addition  of  the  arch  at  the  cen- 
168 


The  Question  of  Stage  Settings 

tre,  and  the  closing  of  the  outer  openings  between 
the  pylons  by  means  of  the  flats  that  had  previ- 
ously formed  a  balustrade.  While  the  physical 
changes  were  few,  the  atmosphere  of  this  setting 
was  so  entirely  different  that  probably  not  a  half 
dozen  people  in  the  audience  realized  that  any  of 
the  same  elements  appeared  in  the  two  scenes. 
Incidentally  it  was  one  of  the  simplest  and  most 
satisfying  backgrounds  shown  during  the  season. 

As  seen  on  the  stage,  in  colour  and  under 
Hume's  subtle  lighting,  the  setting  for  "Helena's 
Husband"  was  the  most  beautiful  of  the  series. 
Aside  from  the  properties,  there  was  nothing  on 
the  stage  that  had  not  already  appeared  in  the 
scenes  of  "The  Wonder  Hat"  and  "The  Tents  of 
the  Arabs"  except  two  decorated  curtains.  Two 
pylons,  two  sections  of  stairs,  the  platforms  and 
the  balustrade  appeared  exactly  as  in  "The  Won- 
der Hat."  Only  one  pylon  was  used  on  the  left 
side,  thus  leaving  a  wider  opening  for  the  bal- 
cony. The  fourth  pylon  was  brought  down- 
stage right  to  suggest  a  corridor  entrance.  The 
arch  and  curtains  formed  a  similar  wall  and  en- 
trance at  the  left. 

With  the  addition,  then,  of  two  decorative  cur- 
tains and  the  two  necessary  properties,  this  re- 
markable atmospheric  scene  was  evolved,  merely 
by  re-arranging  elements  already  on  hand — and 

169 


The  Art  Theatre 

elements,  incidentally,  which  had  long  before 
paid  their  cost. 

For  the  production  of  "Abraham  and  Isaac"  the 
second  important  addition  to  the  original  setting 
was  made,  when  a  large  Gothic  window-piece 
was  provided  as  an  altar  backing.  The  rest  of 
the  background  was  made  up  of  the  green  cur- 
tains, and  two  pylons  with  decorations  suggesting 
stained  glass  windows. 

For  Maeterlinck's  "The  Intruder,"  which  de- 
manded a  room  in  an  old  chateau,  one  important 
addition  was  made,  a  flat  with  a  door.  At  the 
left  was  the  arch,  then  a  pylon  and  curtain,  and 
then  the  Gothic  window,  with  practicable  case- 
ments added.  The  rest  of  the  back  wall  was 
made  up  of  the  new  door-piece  flanked  by  cur- 
tains, while  the  third  wall  consisted  of  two  pylons 
and  curtains.  Stairs  and  platforms  were  utilized 
before  the  window  and  under  the  arch.  A  small 
two-stair  unit  was  added,  leading  to  the  new  door. 
This  arrangement  afforded  exactly  that  sugges- 
tion of  spaciousness  and  mystery  for  which  the 
play  calls.  When  the  picture  of  this  setting  is 
placed  beside  that  of  any  other  in  the  whole  series, 
it  is  difficult  to  see  any  duplication  of  elements 
— yet  practically  every  piece  used  in  the  earlier 
plays  is  there. 

In  the  setting  for  "The  Romance  of  the  Rose," 
170 


The  Question  of  Stage  Settings 

a  balcony  on  a  street,  a  still  more  puzzling  dif- 
ference is  to  be  noted.  Here  there  are  two  new 
pieces,  a  flat  forming  the  front  of  the  balcony,  and 
a  long  flat  with  a  niche  for  the  Madonna  figure. 
Temporary  platforms  also  had  to  be  constructed 
for  the  balcony  floor.  The  pylons  and  hangings 
were  used  down-stage,  to  create  the  shadows  of 
the  dark  street  on  either  side.  The  two  original 
flats  and  the  arch  and  window,  hardly  seen  by 
the  audience,  formed  the  walls  at  the  sides  of  the 
balcony.  On  account  of  the  cost  of  constructing 
the  two  new  flats  and  the  platforms  this  was  one 
of  the  most  expensive  of  the  eleven  variations  of 
the  permanent  setting;  but  even  here  the  entire 
outlay  was  less  than  twenty-five  dollars. 

Of  the  other  plays  "The  Glittering  Gate"  was 
the  only  one  demanding  important  changes.  The 
four  pylons  were  utilized  for  the  wall  of  Heaven, 
and  immense  gates  were  swung  between  the  cen- 
tral pair.  The  two  acts  of  Moliere's  "A  Doctor 
in  Spite  of  Himself"  were  played  before  arrange- 
ments of  the  hangings,  in  the  most  daring  of  all 
Hume's  experiments  in  simplification — and  ex- 
periments that  were  not  wholly  satisfying. 

After  the  remarkable  beauty  and  appropriate- 
ness of  the  series  of  settings,  the  most  notable 
thing  about  them  is  their  cheapness.  Although 
the  original  equipment,  as  seen  in  "The  Wonder 

171 


The  Art  Theatre 

Hat,"  cost  more,  perhaps,  than  the  average  little 
theatre  setting,  it  was  far  less  expensive  than 
the  usual  commercially  designed  set.  And  the 
particular  point  to  be  noted  is  that,  once  installed, 
changes  and  additions  at  very  slight  cost  served 
to  create  effects  which  would  have  called  for  an 
outlay  of  several  hundred  dollars  for  each  scene 
under  the  usual  system.  In  the  ten  variations 
arranged  after  "The  Wonder  Hat"  the  total  cost 
of  added  pieces  averaged  less  than  fifteen  dollars 
for  each  scene.  To  the  notoriously  poor — 
though  often  notoriously  extravagant — ^little  thea- 
tres, such  a  solution  of  the  scenic  problem  should 
be  a  godsend. 

The  success  of  the  system  as  worked  out  by 
Sam  Hume  is  dependent  upon  several  factors. 
First,  of  course,  there  is  the  physical  require- 
ment of  a  stage  with  a  sky-dome  or  plaster  back- 
ground (a  plain  cyclorama  drop  is  a  passable 
substitute),  and  a  flexible  lighting  equipment. 
In  the  second  place  there  must  be  rigid  standard- 
ization of  the  original  elements  and  of  each  added 
unit.  And  most  important,  there  must  be  a  di- 
rector who  combines  inventive  ability  with  artis- 
tic taste. 

The  permanent  setting  at  Detroit  was  used 
for  poetic  plays,  for  those  productions  which 
demanded  atmospheric  background  rather  than 
172 


The  Question  of  Stage  Settings 

definite  locality,  and  occasionally  for  such  a  mod- 
ern interior  as  that  of  "Suppressed  Desires."  But 
no  attempt  was  made  to  extend  its  function  to 
the  mounting  of  realistic  plays ;  special  sets  were 
built  for  such  plays  as  "Trifles,"  "The  Last  Man 
In,"  and  "Lonesomelike."  It  happens  that  the 
settings  for  these  plays  represented  one  of  the 
weakest  spots,  artistically,  of  the  whole  achieve- 
ment at  the  Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre;  and  of 
course  each  of  these  poorer  settings  cost  more  than 
any  of  the  variations  of  the  permanent  set.  This 
suggests  the  possibility  of  standardizing  a  mod- 
em interior  which  could  be  used  in  variation  for 
practically  any  modern  realistic  play.  It  seems 
to  me  certain  that  some  one  of  the  little  theatres 
will  perfect  a  setting  of  this  sort.  Then  it  would 
be  possible,  with  a  permanent  setting  based  on 
Craig's  plan  or  Hume's,  and  an  adaptable  real- 
istic set,  to  stage  any  play  of  either  the  poetic  or 
realistic  sort. 

No  one  can  say  how  serviceable  the  adaptable 
setting  idea  will  prove  when  our  art  theatres  ma- 
ture. It  may  be  that  when  they  grow  up  and 
have  money  to  spend  freely,  they  will  retain 
only  the  plastic  and  atmospheric  theory  of  Craig, 
and  prefer  to  build  each  setting  anew  in  pursuit 
of  that  theory.  My  own  judgment,  however,  is 
that,  aside  from  the  artistic  principles  involved, 

173 


The  Art  Theatre 

the  basic  economic  idea  of  the  system  is  such  that 
it  will  be  retained  even  by  the  most  advanced  and 
wealthy  art  theatres.  They  will  more  freely  add 
new  units  and  odd  pieces,  but  they  will  rely  on  a 
permanent  setting  for  the  core  of  most  of  their 
backgrounds.  This,  however,  is  only  specula- 
tion. What  I  very  strongly  feel  to  be  true  now 
is  this:  At  the  present  stage  of  the  art  theatre 
game  in  this  country,  no  organization  can  afford 
to  overlook  the  invention ;  for  it  offers  to  the  real 
artists  in  the  theatre  a  simple  solution  of  one 
phase  of  synthetic  production,  at  a  price  within 
their  means.  It  means  more  art  in  the  playhouse, 
and  fewer  financial  failures. 


174 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   QUESTION    OF    AUDIENCES   AND    THE 
COMMUNITY 


IT  would  be  useless  to  set  down  a  matured 
art  theatre,  playing  the  best  drama  continu- 
ously, in  the  average  American  city.  It 
would  find  no  audiences  ready  to  accept  its  of- 
ferings, and  it  would  have  no  relation  to  the  art 
life  and  civic  life  of  its  community.  It  would 
die  for  not  having  its  roots  in  native  soil. 

Somewhat  paradoxically,  it  is  useless  to  or- 
ganize audiences  and  community  theatre  asso- 
ciations before  there  are  companies  aiming  to 
supply  the  demand  for  better  dramatic  fare. 
Drama  League  Centres  and  drama  circles  of 
women's  clubs  have  made  this  mistake.  The  or- 
ganizers recognized  the  deplorable  condition  of 
the  American  stage,  and  they  stirred  up  people  to 
form  audiences  and  demand  better  drama;  and 
then,  having  nothing  but  an  outside  knowledge  of 
the  theatre,  they  asked  the  tradition-bound  and 
unenlightened  commercial  manager  to  step  in  and 

175 


The  Art  Theatre 

supply  some  art — as  one  might  ask  the  prostitute 
to  turn  virgin  again,  and  radiate  sweet  innocence 
ever  afterward. 

The  result  is  that  the  country  now  has  an  im- 
mense audience  for  written  drama,  which  is  a 
mighty  good  thing  in  its  way;  and  this  audience 
is  demanding  the  best  in  produced  drama,  but  has 
had  absolutely  no  training  in  recognition  and 
appreciation  of  what  that  best  will  be. 

The  Drama  League  Centres,  with  a  few  notable 
exceptions,  have  been  notoriously  neglectful  of 
creative  dramatic  enterprises  in  their  own  dis- 
tricts. Little  theatre  groups  in  all  parts  of  the 
country  have  complained  that  they  could  obtain 
neither  co-operation  nor  encouragement  from  the 
one  organization  founded  ostensibly  to  aid  prog- 
ress toward  better  theatre  art.  The  Drama 
League  is  organized  as  a  league  of  community 
art  theatres  should  be,  with  local  self-governing 
centres  loosely  joined  in  a  national  body.  But 
until  it  sees  the  wisdom  of  locking  forces  with 
the  creative  groups,  it  will  tend  to  remain  primar- 
ily a  sort  of  Chautauqua  reading  circle,  and  its 
boasted  aid  towards  a  new  theatre  will  remain 
merely  a  boast. 

The  first  normal  step  toward  a  community  thea- 
tre is  likely  to  be  in  some  such  obscure  venture 
as  a  little  theatre  working  on  an  experimental 
176 


Audiences  and  the  Community- 
basis,  amateurishly  at  first,  but  with  intelligent 
growth  toward  an  ideal.  Such  practical  begin- 
nings, nearly  always  initiated  by  a  group  of  en- 
lightened artist- workers,  should  early  receive  the 
support  of  the  enlightened  theorists  of  the  com- 
munity, as  represented  by  such  organizations  as 
the  Drama  League.  The  two  should  then  develop 
together.  The  producing  group  must  be  profes- 
sionalized, probably  by  calling  in  an  experienced 
art  director,  but  must  retain  its  native  character. 
The  audience  group  must  be  willing  to  overlook 
certain  inevitable  failures  of  the  producing  com- 
pany at  first,  not  looking  for  artistic  perfection 
in  the  beginning.  On  such  foundations  will  a 
group  of  sound  community  theatres  appear  in  this 
country.     And  that  will  be  our  national  theatre. 

n 

"Community  theatre"  is  at  best  only  a  relative 
term.  As  most  of  us  use  the  phrase  it  has  noth- 
ing to  do  with  the  "civic  theatre"  of  Percy  Mac- 
Kaye,  in  which  community  participation  on  the 
stage  is  the  test.  His  civic  theatre  associations 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  purveying  of 
art  for  the  people,  but  would  only  use  the  art  form 
as  a  convenient  medium  for  developing  a  whole- 
some civic  consciousness,  through  bringing  many 
people  shoulder  to  shoulder  in  play — which,  like 

177 


The  Art  Theatre 

an  Iowa  picnic,  is  an  excellent  thing  in  its  way, 
but  has  little  to  do  with  the  higher  phases  of  art. 
"Community  theatre,"  moreover,  does  not  neces- 
sarily mean  a  theatre  which  is  designed  to  serve 
a  majority  of  the  people  of  its  city,  or  even  any 
considerable  percentage  of  the  population.  If  the 
owning  and  producing  groups  have  grown  up 
out  of  native  experiment  and  interest,  if  the  pro- 
ductions reflect  the  best  demands  of  the  commun- 
ity in  a  form  acceptable  to  enough  members  to 
keep  the  institution  thoroughly  alive,  if  the  price 
of  admission  is  low  enough  so  that  no  wide  sec- 
tion of  the  public  is  debarred  through  inability  to 
pay  for  admission,  then  it  is  a  community  theatre 
in  a  very  practical  sense. 

Ill 

It  is  natural  that  audiences  for  an  "advanced" 
art  of  the  theatre  should  not  exist  in  the  average 
American  city  at  present.  Because  the  playhouse 
became  commercialized  and  its  productions  stereo- 
typed, theatregoers  have  been  trained  in  appre- 
ciation of  the  obvious  and  the  sensational,  with 
seldom  a  chance  to  form  a  taste  for  the  phases 
of  dramatic  art  that  are  most  worth  while. 

But  potential  audiences  for  the  best  drama  do 
exist  in  the  average  American  city.  They  are 
unorganized  and  badly  scattered,  but  can  be  built 
178 


Audiences  and  the  Community 

up  as  an  art  theatre  grows.  I  base  my  opinion 
here  on  the  experience  of  such  organizations  as 
the  Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre  and  the  Washington 
Square  Players.  Few  cities  could  look  more  un- 
promising for  art  theatre  activity  than  the  De- 
troit of  a  few  years  ago.  It  is  a  city  of  material 
interests,  with  an  immense  proportion  of  foreign 
and  uncultured  elements  in  the  population.  Its 
art  life  is  far  more  sluggish  than  that  of  many  a 
smaller  city  of  the  Middle  and  Far  West,  and  it  is 
a  poor  theatre  town  even  for  commercial  compan- 
ies. But  when  the  most  active  native  art  group, 
after  scattered  experiments  without  professional 
direction,  built  its  theatre  and  called  in  one  of 
the  foremost  artist-directors  in  the  country,  the 
audience  was  found.  When  the  Washington 
Square  Players  started  production  in  New  York 
they  were  marked  for  failure  by  those  "on  the 
inside."  No  audience,  was  the  verdict.  But  the 
organization  not  only  stayed,  but  moved  to  one 
of  the  large  downtown  theatres,  and  continued  to 
strike  an  art  average  far  above  that  of  the  sur- 
rounding business  theatres. 

I  think  that  there  is  not  a  city  of  one  hundred 
thousand  people  in  this  country  where  a  begin- 
ning organization  aiming  toward  an  ultimate  art 
theatre  could  not  find  a  supporting  audience, 
granted  that  the  appeal  was  not  too  narrow  at 

179 


The  Art  Theatre 

first,  that  an  expert  artist-director  was  in  charge, 
and  that  the  project  was  managed  in  a  business- 
like way.  And  this  audience  would  grow 
with  the  organization,  so  that  the  mature  art 
theatre  would  have  its  proper  community  sup- 
port. 

IV 

Most  American  little  theatres  lean  for  their 
chief  support  upon  a  subscription  audience.  Be- 
cause they  are  not  endowed,  nor  capitalized,  as 
is  the  business  theatre,  they  find  the  security  en- 
joyed under  this  system  necessary  to  any  sort  of 
permanency.  But  the  subscription  system  has 
more  advantages  than  the  securing  of  a  certain 
income  each  season.  A  subscribing  audience  al- 
ways feels  a  proprietary  interest  in  the  theatre. 
It  is  the  link  between  the  producing  group  and 
the  community.  This  is  a  matter  of  such  im- 
portance that  I  think  that  even  an  endowed  art 
theatre,  with  its  implied  economic  independence, 
would  be  very  unwise  to  abandon  the  subscrip- 
tion basis.  From  humble  beginnings  to  maturity 
it  should  have  its  "members." 

In  Berlin  there  is  a  theatre  with  50,000  sub- 
scribers. It  happens  in  this  case  that  the  sub- 
scription audience  also  owns  the  theatre.  But 
the  point  is  that  through  such  organization  the 
180 


Audiences  and  the  Community 

producers  provide  plays  better  chosen,  better  acted 
and  better  staged  than  the  commercial  average, 
for  a  charge  of  twenty-five  cents  per  member. 
The  saving  that  makes  this  revolutionary  result 
possible  may  be  summed  up  in  this  way: 

No  one  makes  a  speculative  profit  from  the 
theatre;  there  are  no  failures,  and  the  spectator 
is  not  charged,  as  in  the  American  system,  for 
the  play  he  sees  and  for  two  others  on  which 
the  producer  lost  money;  the  actors  are  employed 
by  the  year,  and  do  not  have  to  charge  an  inflated 
price  for  their  services,  as  our  American  actors 
do  when  employed,  to  make  up  for  long  intervals 
of  unemployment;  the  rental  charge  is  low  be- 
cause the  theatre  does  not  need  to  be  in  the  high- 
rent  district,  and  because  it  is  always  in  use 
(American  theatres  charge  against  the  short  sea- 
son lessee  enough  to  cover  the  loss  accruing  dur- 
ing the  considerable  number  of  weeks  when  the 
building  is  dark) ;  and  there  are  no  traveling  ex- 
penses, advertising  costs  are  radically  reduced, 
and  sundry  savings  are  effected  through  stand- 
ardized methods  in  the  producing  and  business 
departments. 

The  subscription  system  thus  not  only  binds 
the  community  to  the  theatre,  but  when  properly 
managed  may  prevent  so  much  waste  that  the 
productions  can  be  bettered  even  while  the  prices 

181 


The  Art  Theatre 

are  being  cut  to  a  fraction  of  those  charged  by 
commercial  theatres. 


The  relation  of  the  theatre  and  the  community 
should  not  be  merely  that  of  artist  and  patron ;  it 
should  involve  a  wide  influence  in  shaping  the 
social  and  recreational  life  of  the  city.  For  the 
present,  because  we  are  in  such  a  dramatic  waste, 
it  is  most  important  that  the  little  theatres  and 
art  theatres  do  educational  work  in  their  com- 
munities in  an  effort  to  create  some  sort  of  pub- 
lic standards  of  amusement.  As  the  need  is  so 
elementary,  it  is  probable  that  this  work  can  be 
begun  best  through  the  schools. 

At  Detroit,  Sam  Hume  counted  among  his  duties 
as  director  of  the  Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre  the 
organization  and  instruction  of  a  class  of  teachers. 
These  people,  he  argued,  are  directing  and  will 
continue  to  direct  student  productions  at  the 
schools,  and  if  they  have  no  other  model  they  will 
make  their  staging  a  poor  copy  of  that  seen  in 
the  commercial  theatre.  So  he  set  about  to  teach 
them  the  underlying  principles  of  theatre  pro- 
duction, with  special  reference  to  a  simplified 
but  genuine  stagecraft.  During  the  second  year 
the  class,  largely  experimental  so  far,  will  take 
its  definite  place  in  the  organization  of  the  Arts 
182 


Audiences  and  the  Community 

and  Crafts  Theatre.  In  order  further  to  con- 
nect the  theatre's  work  with  the  schools  a  special 
form  of  membership  was  arranged  for  teachers, 
and  at  the  later  productions  the  dress  rehearsals 
were  opened  to  invited  audiences  of  students  and 
teachers.  Both  these  features  will  be  continued 
during  the  second  season. 

Sam  Hume  carried  the  work  of  the  theatre 
out  into  the  community  by  lecturing  extensively 
before  women's  clubs  and  other  organizations; 
and  a  wider  audience  was  brought  to  the  theatre 
by  lectures  delivered  there  by  authorities  of  na- 
tional and  international  reputation.  Several 
schools  called  Mr.  Hume  into  consultation  while 
planning  stages  for  their  auditoriums,  and  this 
work  he  regarded  as  part  of  his  service  to  the 
community  as  director  of  the  theatre.  But  the 
most  novel  feature  of  his  extension  work  will  be 
added  during  the  next  season,  when  he  plans  to 
build  a  portable  stage,  somewhat  like  that  of  the 
Portmanteau  Players,  on  which  he  will  be  able  to 
produce  in  school  auditoriums  and  social  halls 
the  best  of  the  plays  arranged  for  the  Arts  and 
Crafts  Theatre.  This  not  only  will  help  to  over- 
come the  limitations  of  small  audiences  and  high 
prices  now  obtaining  at  the  theatre,  but  will  carry 
the  offerings  into  every  section  of  the  city,  with 
consequent  wide  influence  on  public  taste. 

183 


The  Art  Theatre 

There  is  no  reason  why  the  art  theatre  should 
not  be  a  part  or  even  the  nucleus  of  such  social 
centres  as  many  cities  are  now  trying  to  provide 
for  their  people.  The  settlement  theatres,  such 
as  that  at  Hull  House,  are  embodiments  of  the 
idea,  but  they  are  a  little  too  closely  linked  up 
with  the  redemption  of  slums  to  maintain  a  high 
artistic  standard.  We  want  art  theatres  in  which 
the  best  life  of  the  city,  and  particularly  the  art 
life,  revolves  around  the  dramatic  centre. 

This  idea  is  more  applicable  to  smaller  cities 
than  to  such  a  metropolis  as  New  York  or  Chi- 
cago. In  many  small  towns  seeds  for  such  in- 
stitutions have  already  been  sown.  In  some  the 
theatre  will  never  climb  beyond  an  amateurish 
plane;  but  it  will  be  a  vital  element  in  the  com- 
munity life  nevertheless.  I  have  in  mind  at  the 
moment  a  little  theatre  at  Ypsilanti,  Michigan. 
When  the  first  suggestion  of  such  an  institution 
was  made,  there  was  little  response.  But  now 
the  Ypsilanti  Players  have  a  tiny  playhouse  of 
their  own,  offering  productions  at  regular  in- 
tervals, and  the  organization  is  perhaps  the  livest 
social  element  in  the  town.  It  has  provided  a 
bond  of  interest  that  unites  factions  and  overrides 
narrow  social  distinctions.  When  the  organiza- 
tion moves  from  its  present  cramped  quarters, 
moreover,  it  plans  to  make  its  new  building  more 
184 


Audiences  and  the  Community 

than  a  theatre  in  the  ordinary  sense.  It  will  be 
in  effect  a  social  centre,  designed  to  afford  whole- 
some amusement  of  various  sorts,  with  the  drama- 
tic activities  as  a  central  attraction  and  binding 
force. 

How  far  a  theatre  alone  can  weave  its  place  into 
the  deeper  life  of  a  community  has  been  proved 
at  the  Prairie  Playhouse  at  Galesburg,  Illinois, 
where  a  bar-room  was  remodeled  to  serve  as  a 
playhouse.  Here  one  of  the  few  enlightened  cen- 
tres of  the  Drama  League  joined  hands  with  the 
amateur  producing  group,  and  the  theatre  be- 
came a  definite  force  in  the  recreational  life  of 
the  community,  a  notable  social  asset,  and  an  in- 
stitution for  the  citizens  to  be  proud  of. 

Such  playhouses  are  not  likely  to  approach 
closely  the  art-theatre  ideal  of  production.  At 
both  Galesburg  and  Ypsilanti  the  architectural 
and  mechanical  limitations  are  such  that  even  an 
inspired  artist-director  could  not  hope  to  reach 
the  finished  standard  implied  in  the  term  "art 
theatre."  While  the  producers  often  make  a  vir- 
tue of  their  necessity,  and  occasionally  secure 
effects  with  a  fresh  loveliness  unknown  in  the 
commercial  theatre,  they  are  distinctly  limited  in 
achievement  of  beauty  in  staging.  But  even  un- 
der such  limitation  there  is  in  their  activities 
a  real  service  to  the  art  of  the  theatre.     In  the 

185 


The  Art  Theatre 

list  of  Galesburg  plays  one  finds  the  names  of 
new  and  unknown  authors  sandwiched  between 
those  of  Charles  Rann  Kennedy,  Anton  Tchekoff 
and  William  Vaughan  Moody;  and  at  Ypsilanti 
the  range  has  been  equally  wide.  In  other  words, 
even  though  the  staging  may  have  been  merely 
passable,  if  not  crude,  the  communities  in  which 
such  playhouses  exist  have  had  tastes  of  the  best 
in  drama;  both  players  and  audiences  have  been 
influenced  toward  the  best  in  dramatic  literature. 
When  these  people  visit  New  York,  moreover, 
they  will  go  to  see  first,  not  "The  Century  Girl," 
or  the  Winter  Garden  Show  or  "Little  Lady  in 
Blue,"  but  the  Washington  Square  Players,  or 
such  unusual  offerings  as  "The  Yellow  Jacket" 
and  "Pierrot  the  Prodigal."  In  other  words,  each 
progressive  centre,  no  matter  how  small  or  how 
amateurish,  reflects  its  good  work  on  the  activities 
of  all  the  others. 

Following  the  thought  as  it  applies  to  a  large 
city,  one  remembers  that  the  Neighborhood  Play- 
house has  had  a  definite  influence  on  the  thea- 
trical situation  in  New  York.  Commercial  man- 
agers are  not  insensible  to  the  fact  that  last  year's 
compilers  of  "all- American"  lists  of  plays  ranked 
two  Neighborhood  productions  in  the  first  ten; 
that  another  Broadway  critic  described  one  of  the 
Playhouse's  amateur  players  as  giving  perhaps 
186 


Audiences  and  the  Community 

the  finest  individual  performance  of  the  season; 
and  that  the  Neighborhood  group,  in  conjunc- 
tion with  amateur  and  semi-professional  com- 
panies elsewhere,  introduced  a  dramatist  who  be- 
came more  of  a  sensation  with  the  great  American 
public  than  any  playwright  discovered  on  Broad- 
way in  the  last  ten  years.  Managers  hear  of 
striking  incidents  like  these;  and  while  they  can- 
not capture  the  qualities  that  make  the  Neigh- 
borhood Playhouse  productions  most  worth 
v^hile,  they  will  modify  their  offerings  a  little  to 
meet  the  competition;  and  there  will  be  thus  a 
slight  advantage  to  the  whole  New  York  com- 
munity. 

In  this  way  the  new  spirit,  finding  expression 
in  any  narrow  section  of  a  community,  reaches  out 
until  it  affects  the  whole.  Audiences  everywhere 
benefit  by  its  achievement  of  a  new  standard  of 
excellence  in  production — and  one  more  step  is 
taken  toward  creating  a  nation-wide  audience  for 
the  coming  art  theatre. 


187 


CHAPTER  IX 

ORGANIZATION   AND   MANAGEMENT 

HENRY  IRVING  was  fond  of  saying 
that  "the  theatre  must  succeed  as  a 
business  if  it  is  to  succeed  as  an  art." 
The  statement  carries  a  false  implication  as  well 
as  a  sound  core  of  truth.  It  is  not  true  that  the 
theatre  must  pay  dividends  on  the  excessive 
capitalization  forced  upon  it  under  our  abnormal 
competitive  commercial  system.  It  is  not  even 
true  that  a  theatre  must  be  entirely  self-support- 
ing— for  we  know  that  art  usually  flourishes  more 
readily  under  endowment.  But  whether  a  thea- 
tre is  economically  dependent  upon  chance  audi- 
ences or  endowed  to  a  greater  or  less  extent,  it 
must  be  intelligently  organized  and  cleanly  ad- 
ministered, or  it  cannot  serve  art  wholesomely  or 
permanently.  The  endowed  theatre  must  be  self- 
supporting  within  the  terms  of  its  endowment, 
and  every  playhouse  must  adopt  common-sense 
business  principles  in  management,  if  it  is  to 
succeed  in  creating  and  perpetuating  a  worthy 
art. 

188 


Organization  and  Management 

Too  many  little  theatres  have  discounted  the 
value  of  business  efficiency,  and  there  have  been 
innumerable  failures  on  that  account.  For  this 
reason  I  wish  to  emphasize  the  need  for  sound 
management.  No  little  theatre,  or  other  organ- 
ization looking  toward  art  theatre  production, 
should  initiate  activities  without  a  definite  plac- 
ing of  control  and  a  predetermined  system  of 
administration. 


The  plan  of  organization  which  has  proved 
most  successful  is  one  under  which  responsibility 
is  three-fold.  First,  there  is  a  holding  group, 
owning  the  theatre  or  representing  the  owners, 
which  determines  the  policy  and  is  a  court  of  last 
appeal  for  all  questions  arising  in  the  two  ad- 
ministrative departments ;  second,  there  is  an  art- 
ist-director who  is  responsible  for  every  activity 
behind  the  curtain,  and  has  complete  power  in 
everything  pertaining  to  production;  and  third, 
there  is  a  business  manager  who  is  responsible 
for  front-of-the-house  administration,  and  who 
has  charge  of  seat  sales,  rentals,  bookkeeping,  etc. 

The  controlling  group,  which  must  be  organ- 
ized as  a  self-perpetuating  body,  necessarily  de- 
termines the  general  policy  of  the  theatre.  If  it 
has  not  full  ownership,  it  represents  the  true 

189 


The  Art  Theatre 

owners  before  the  world,  whether  they  are  merely 
a  larger  or  smaller  group  of  individuals,  or  an  or- 
ganized audience,  or  a  municipality.  As  repre- 
sentative of  the  community,  this  holding  commit- 
tee is  a  go-between  responsible  to  the  member- 
ship or  audience  on  one  side,  and  holding  reins 
leading  to  the  artist-director  and  business  man- 
ager on  the  other.  It  must  be  ready  to  meet  sug- 
gestions, demands,  and  complaints  from  these 
three  directions.  It  holds  the  only  check  on  the 
director,  and  it  must  decide  all  questions  arising 
between  that  often-temperamental  official  and  the 
hard-headed  business  manager.  It  must  deter- 
mine such  matters  as  the  number  of  performances 
to  be  given,  basing  its  decision  on  the  estimates 
of  producing  and  business  departments;  and  it 
must  adopt  a  policy  which  will  satisfy  the  audi- 
ence to  a  reasonable  extent.  Needless  to  say,  per- 
haps, this  committee  should  be  composed  of  for- 
ward-looking artists  and  art  lovers,  with  a  safe 
portion  of  business  sense  thrown  in  by  way  of 
balance. 

The  ownership  of  American  art  theatres,  the 
question  whether  they  will  be  in  the  hands  of  in- 
dividuals, or  of  societies  more  or  less  responsible 
to  the  community,  like  Art  Associations,  or  of 
municipalities,  is  purely  a  matter  of  speculation. 
But  it  is  probably  true  that  private  ownership 
190 


.    Organization  and  Management 

is  the  method  offering  fewest  advantages,  and 
municipal  ownership  a  goal  to  which  we  should 
work  definitely  but  very  cautiously. 

Private  individual  ownership  is  usually  de- 
structive of  art  ideals  because  the  single  owner 
seldom  feels  any  responsibility  to  the  community, 
and  he  is  interested  more  in  profits  than  in  giv- 
ing the  best  drama.  If  a  single  owner  were  in- 
spired by  the  highest  ideals,  and  through  wide 
experience  and  breadth  of  taste  could  take  the 
place  of  the  controlling  group,  administering  his 
theatre  directly  through  his  artist-director  and 
business  manager,  he  might  develop  a  model  art 
theatre.  But  the  same  limitations  pertain  here 
as  in  the  matter  of  autocratic  government.  A 
just  and  enlightened  autocracy  is  perhaps  the 
best  type  of  government  that  ever  existed;  but  the 
benevolent  despot  is  so  rare  that  all  the  world  is 
driven  to  seek  democracy  instead. 

Group  ownership,  ownership  vested  in  a  small 
body  of  artists,  workers  and  others  deeply  in- 
terested in  the  theatre,  has  proved  successful  at 
the  Moscow  Art  Theatre  and  other  institutions  in 
Europe;  and  it  is  not  an  uncommon  basis  of  or- 
ganization among  American  little  theatres — al- 
though most  of  them  do  not  own  buildings,  but 
only  the  settings,  good  will  and  similar  assets. 
Under  this  system  the  owners  naturally  act  as 

191 


The  Art  Theatre 

the  controlling  body,  as  a  board  of  administration 
acting  through  the  artist-director  and  business 
manager.  There  is  nothing  in  this  small-group 
ownership  to  prevent  the  theatre  becoming  a  sub- 
scription house,  with  a  definite  community  rela- 
tionship, if  the  owners  are  sincere  in  their  de- 
sire to  serve  art  and  their  audiences  rather  than 
to  make  speculative  profits. 

Ownership  vested  in  such  a  group  as  trustees 
for  an  organized  audience,  or  for  the  municipal- 
ity, is  an  ultimate  goal  in  this  country,  and  a 
system  which  has  proved  phenomenally  success- 
ful in  certain  German  cities.  But  it  is  doubtful 
whether  the  ground  has  already  been  prepared 
for  the  establishment  of  a  municipal  art  theatre 
in  America.  It  seems  that  the  cry  for  commu- 
nity playhouses  has  been  a  bit  ill-timed.  The 
natural  order  is  to  progress  from  experimental  art 
theatre  to  municipal  theatre.  I  have  more  faith 
in  development  of  the  movement  through  play- 
houses owned  for  the  present  by  groups  of  artist- 
workers  or  by  art  societies. 

I  have  very  little  faith  in  the  development  of 
significant  theatres  where  ownership  remains 
with  a  group  of  amateur  actors  alone.  A  clear 
distinction  should  be  made  between  the  old-time 
dramatic-social  clubs  and  the  theatres  developed 
by  organizations  interested  primarily  in  the  art 
192 


r^ 


Organization  and  Management 

of  the  theatre.  Doubtless  there  are  amateur 
players'  clubs  in  Chicago;  but  none  of  them  has 
had  anything  to  do  with  the  two  important  ex- 
perimental theatres  in  that  city,  the  Chicago  Lit- 
tle Theatre  and  the  Players'  Workshop.  In  De- 
troit there  are  two  very  active  amateur  actors' 
associations;  but  even  though  they  use  the  Arts 
and  Crafts  Playhouse  and  have  gained  artistically 
through  seeing  the  work  of  Sara  Hume's  com- 
pany at  that  theatre,  they  remain  in  the  unimpor- 
tant list :  they  still  are  more  interested  in  the  thea- 
tre production  as  a  social  function  and  as  a  means 
of  amusing  themselves  than  in  the  betterment  of 
dramatic  art.  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre  had 
separate  origin  in  a  group  of  artists. 

A  case  of  mixed  origin,  with  ownership  still 
vested  in  a  body  of  amateur  actors,  is  to  be  seen 
in  the  San  Francisco  Little  Theatre.  Here  the 
amateur  Players'  Club,  accepting  the  impulse  of 
the  progressive  movement,  built  its  Little  Theatre. 
But  while  the  institution  is  one  of  the  most  active 
in  the  country  today,  it  has  failed  to  approach  art- 
theatre  standards.  There  has  been  a  certain  ac- 
cretion of  progressive  artists,  with  a  consequent 
raising  of  ideals,  and  a  desire  to  do  the  best  thing ; 
but  the  organization  has  been  so  handicapped  by 
the  ideas  clinging  from  its  older  social-dramatic 
club  days  that  it  is  in  no  way  to  be  classed  with 

193 


The  Art  Theatre 

such  institutions  as  the  Chicago  Little  Theatre 
and  the  Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre.  It  has  proved 
valuable  as  a  trying-out  ground  for  local  play- 
wrights; but  if  it  be  granted  that  the  first  object 
of  such  theatres  should  be  rounded-out  produc- 
tion, the  San  Francisco  group  has  so  far  failed. 
Perhaps  this  type  of  organization  would  rise  to 
art-theatre  standards  if  put  in  charge  of  an  artist- 
director.  But  the  artist-director  would  here  be 
responsible  to  the  actor-owners,  an  arrangement 
that  would  be  satisfactory  just  so  long  as  he 
chose  actors  in  accordance  with  that  group's  per- 
sonal wishes,  and  intolerable  as  soon  as  he  struck 
out  independently  and  cast  the  plays  to  the  best 
advantage  artistically.  The  actor-owner  is  sub- 
ject to  many  of  the  same  objections  as  the  actor- 
manager  of  the  commercial  theatre.  The  system 
presents  so  many  dangers  that  it  would  be  wise 
for  any  amateur  dramatic  club  desiring  to  rise  to 
the  little  theatre  or  art  theatre  level  to  appoint  a 
controlling  board  including  a  majority  of  non- 
actors,  and  then  submit  entirely  to  the  decisions 
of  that  board. 

One  other  sort  of  association  ownership  merits 
attention.  When  two  long-established  art  asso- 
ciations opened  new  buildings  in  the  autumn  of 
1916,  each  containing  a  complete  theatre  equipped 
according  to  progressive  standards,  a  new  and 
194 


Organization  and  Management 

significant  phase  of  theatre  progress  in  this  coun- 
try was  recorded.  An  outcast  among  the  arts 
was  restored  to  a  dignified  place  beside  painting 
and  sculpture,  and  the  idealists  and  recognized 
artists  of  two  communities  came  into  direct  touch 
with  theatre  production.  The  Artists'  Guild  of 
St.  Louis,  to  be  sure,  after  one  production  of  its 
own,  leased  its  theatre  to  an  outside  organization 
that  was  ill-managed  and  brought  no  fame  to  the 
playhouse.  But  hereafter  the  art  society  will 
have  direct  control  over  the  policy  to  be  followed 
throughout  the  season,  having  employed  an  artist- 
director  to  organize  the  existing  dramatic  re- 
sources and  supervise  all  matters  pertaining  to 
staging.  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Society  of  De- 
troit at  the  beginning  adopted  the  wiser  method  of 
keeping  control  of  its  theatre's  policy  in  its  own 
hands;  it  called  in  the  most  experienced  artist- 
director  available,  and  left  to  him  the  formation 
of  a  company  in  the  Society's  name.  The  Society 
exerts  control  through  its  Theatre  Committee,  a 
group  of  artists  and  men  of  affairs  who  have 
shown  particular  interest  in  dramatic  art.  The 
success  of  the  first  season  speaks  for  the  wisdom  of 
adopting  such  a  system. 

Personally  I  believe  that  there  is  an  immense 
benefit  to  be  gained  by  the  progressive  theatres 
through  close  co-operation  with  the  well-estab- 

195 


The  Art  Theatre 

lished  art  societies;  and  it  is  not  at  all  unlikely 
that  many  an  American  art  theatre  of  the  future 
will  be  founded  and  developed  through  the  ac- 
tivities of  such  organizations.  They  offer  those 
advantages  of  a  definite  foothold  in  the  com- 
munity, permanency  of  organization,  and  partial 
endowment  (since  they  usually  own  their  build- 
ings), which  are  so  important  in  the  formative 
period  of  a  theatre's  career.  I  may  add  inci- 
dentally that,  if  the  experience  at  Detroit  is  a 
fair  example,  the  dramatic  activity  will  in  turn 
bring  certain  benefits  to  the  art  society — the  new 
vitality  which  comes  with  awakened  interest  in  a 
new  art,  and  wider  community  interest  through 
the  bringing  of  a  new  audience  to  the  society's 
building. 

II 

Of  the  second  of  the  departments  existing  un- 
der the  three-unit  system  of  organization,  the 
producing  department,  much  has  been  written  in 
earlier  chapters.  Of  the  duties  and  powers  of 
the  responsible  head,  the  artist-director,  I  have 
already  said  enough.  But  I  wish  to  emphasize 
one  point:  the  artist-director  must  have  complete 
charge  of  every  activity  connected  with  staging. 
To  him,  and  to  him  alone,  the  electrician,  the 
scene  designer  and  builder,  the  costumer  and  the 
196 


Organization  and  Management 

actor  must  look  for  their  orders.  His  one  limita- 
tion must  be  that  of  the  size  of  his  budget.  Be- 
yond that  he  should  be  free  from  interference  by 
the  business  manager  or  by  the  controlling  group 
above.  That  group  may  remove  him  if  a  pro- 
duction has  in  their  estimation  failed.  But  while 
the  production  is  in  preparation  they  must  main- 
tain a  "hands-off"  policy. 

It  was  because  of  the  failure  to  observe  this 
clear  division  of  power,  this  even  balance  of 
authority  and  responsibility,  that  the  1916-17 
season  at  the  Los  Angeles  Little  Theatre  failed 
to  take  rank  among  the  lastingly  important  art 
theatre  experiments  in  this  country.  The  Players 
Producing  Company  under  the  leadership  of 
Aline  Barnsdall  leased  a  theatre  and  inaugurated 
a  season  which  should  have  been  brilliant.  No 
less  than  three  experienced  directors  were  se- 
cured, Richard  Ordynski,  Irving  Pichel,  and 
Herbert  Heron.  The  broth  was  endangered  right 
then  and  there.  But  to  make  matters  impossible, 
not  only  was  no  one  of  these  directors  given  full 
charge,  but  the  three  together  were  subject  to 
interference  from  above.  The  supervising  brain 
was  not  that  which  attended  to  the  details  of  stag- 
ing. The  result  was  confusion  among  the  stage 
forces,  delayed  openings,  and  dissatisfaction  in 
various  quarters.     The  theatre  brought  together 

197 


The  Art  Theatre 

a  remarkable  array  of  talent,  and  was  not  handi- 
capped financially.  But,  despite  its  achievement 
in  certain  directions — particularly  in  the  stage 
settings  of  Norman-Bel  Geddes,  and  in  the  value 
of  individual  plays — the  season  as  a  whole  was  a 
disappointment.  Failure  to  establish  a  definite 
line  between  the  controlling  group  and  the  pro- 
ducing group,  and  failure  to  give  the  artist-pro- 
ducer a  free  rein,  all  but  wrecked  the  enterprise. 
The  placing  of  complete  control  of  the  stage 
in  an  artist-director's  hands  does  not  mean  that 
co-operation  of  artists  in  staging  is  impossible. 
On  the  contrary,  there  will  usually  be  the  fullest 
co-operation  of  the  director  with  the  members  of 
the  controlling  committee  and  other  artists  di- 
rectly interested  in  the  work.  The  point  is  that 
the  director  should  be  left  free  to  take  the  first 
step  toward  such  co-operation;  it  should  not  be 
forced  upon  him.  At  Detroit,  Sam  Hume  took 
full  advantage  of  the  unusual  talent  placed  at 
his  disposal  through  connection  with  the  Costume 
Department  of  the  Society  of  Arts  and  Crafts;^ 
and  a  member  of  the  Society,  Katherine  McEwen, 
collaborated  with  him  in  designing  and  making 

^  The  three  artists  of  the  Costume  Department,  Helen  Plumb, 
Alexandrine  McEwen  and  Katherine  McEwen,  formed  practically 
an  advisory  board,  and  Mr.  Hume  turned  to  them  for  expert  aid 
in  many  departments  of  the  work. 

198 


Organization  and  Management 

the  settings;  but  he  was  put  under  no  obligation 
to  work  with  this  or  any  other  group. 

It  is  noticeable  that  the  two  most  important 
little  theatres  in  the  country  are  those  in  which 
the  directors  have  had  broadest  powers  and  great- 
est freedom  from  interference — at  Chicago  and 
Detroit. 

in 

The  business  manager  is  a  rarity  in  the  Amer- 
ican little  theatre.  Whereas  the  artist  was  en- 
tirely displaced  by  the  business  man  in  the  com- 
mercial theatre,  the  business  man  has  been  almost 
entirely  lost  in  the  visionary  artist  in  the  insurg- 
ent theatre.  It  was  natural  that  the  revolt  should 
be  carried  to  extremes,  and  that  institutions  with- 
out centralized  responsibility  and  with  volunteer 
administration  should  neglect,  if  not  scorn,  busi- 
ness efficiency.  People  usually  join  such  organ- 
izations because  they  are  interested  in  art,  and 
they  avoid  the  thankless  tasks  of  selling  tickets, 
keeping  books,  and  house  management.  But  lit- 
tle theatres  have  made  their  most  serious  mistake 
in  this  direction.  They  would  gain  if  they  would 
realize  that  "non-commercial"  does  not  neces- 
sarily mean — indeed,  must  not  mean — unbusi- 
nesslike. If  they  cannot  find  a  volunteer  worker 
to  carry  on  the  hard  work  of  the  business  depart- 

199 


The  Art  Theatre 

ment,  they  will  save  in  the  end  by  employing  a 
manager.  Indeed,  to  initiate  little  theatre  or  art 
theatre  work  without  a  capable  man  in  charge 
of  the  business  department  is  to  court  failure. 

In  a  sense  the  business  manager  is  just  as  im- 
portant as  the  artist-director.  At  any  rate  a  fail- 
ure in  his  department  is  quite  as  certain  to  wreck 
the  whole  enterprise.  He  should  be  as  deeply 
interested  in  the  theatre,  and  he  should  be  ready 
to  make  the  same  sacrifices  of  time  and  effort  for 
it.  He  must  have  as  complete  charge  before  the 
curtain  as  the  artist-director  has  behind.  His 
relation  to  the  holding  group  is  that  of  the  super- 
vising manager  of  a  business  corporation  to  his 
board  of  directors.  His  relation  to  the  artist-di- 
rector is  limited  to  a  determination  of  the  amount 
to  be  expended  by  the  producing  department. 
Having  determined  the  probable  income  for  the 
season,  he  is  able  to  say  to  the  artist-director 
(through  the  controlling  board) :  "You  may  spend 
so  much  on  the  entire  series  of  plays,  which  means 
approximately  such-and-such  an  amount  for  each 
production."  As  to  the  relative  expenditure  on 
different  items,  for  costuming,  for  instance,  or 
lighting,  or  settings,  he  properly  has  no  author- 
ity, so  long  as  the  director  keeps  within  the 
gross  amount  of  his  appropriation.  As  to  possi- 
ble friction  between  the  business  manager  and  art 
200 


Organization  and  Management 

director,  there  is  always  a  way  of  settlement 
through  the  board  to  which  both  are  responsible. 
And  let  me  add  that  it  is  better  to  have  such  fric- 
tion if  the  questions  involved  will  not  otherwise 
be  brought  up.  Dodging  the  issue  of  control  over 
expenditures  has  wrecked  more  than  one  little 
theatre.  The  recently  organized  Pittsburgh 
Theatre  Association  inadvertently  spent  two 
thousand  dollars  on  its  first  production,  and  right 
then  and  there  nearly  killed  the  whole  project 
— because  no  business  manager  held  a  check  on 
what  was  being  paid  out  by  the  producing  de- 
partment. 

The  duties  of  the  business  manager  fall  natu- 
rally into  four  divisions:  ticket  sales,  including 
subscriptions  and  box  office  sales ;  house  manage- 
ment; advertising;  and  the  duties  of  a  treasurer, 
book-keeping,  paying  out  moneys,  and  budget- 
making.  Of  the  first  two  of  these  divisions  little 
need  be  said.  The  types  of  subscription,  whether 
or  not  there  shall  be  a  subscription  committee  for 
a  personal  canvass  of  the  community,  and  ar- 
rangements for  ticket  sales  to  the  public,  are  mat- 
ters that  have  to  be  determined  by  special  condi- 
tions. Under  house  management  are  grouped 
such  duties  as  organizing  a  force  of  ushers,  at- 
tending to  lights,  ticket-taking,  janitor  service, 
and,  if  the  organization  owns  its  theatre,  rentals. 

201 


The  Art  Theatre 

These  are  matters  which  will  be  taken  care  of  by 
common  sense — if  the  manager  is  definitely 
charged  with  them  in  the  first  place. 

IV 

The  work  of  the  business  manager  in  his  ca- 
pacity as  treasurer  of  the  theatre  should  be  as 
thoroughly  systematized  as  that  of  any  corpora- 
tion. Not  only  to  safeguard  against  conscious 
or  unconscious  dishonesty,  but  also  in  order  to 
make  possible  accurate  estimating  of  the  thea- 
tre's current  status  and  future  possibilities,  it  is 
necessary  to  keep  strict  account  of  every  penny 
paid  in  or  disbursed.  No  materials  should  be 
bought,  or  bills  paid,  without  receipts  being  ob- 
tained. Only  thus  can  the  bookkeeper  be  as- 
sured of  absolute  accuracy.  This  lesson  was 
learned  by  experience  at  the  Arts  and  Crafts 
Theatre.  At  the  first  production  of  the  series, 
purchases  of  stage  accessories  and  incidentals 
were  made  at  random.  When  accounts  were 
made  up  not  only  was  there  a  question  of  exactly 
what  the  total  cost  had  been,  but  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  make  out  an  itemized  list  of  expenditures, 
thus  preventing  accurate  budget-making  for  the 
future.  It  was  necessary  to  make  a  general  ex- 
pense charge  which  prevented  exact  apportion- 
ment of  charges  against  the  various  departments 
202 


Organization  and  Management 

at  the  end  of  the  year.  This  lesson  once  learned, 
a  system  was  adopted  which  made  necessary  a 
written  record  of  every  expenditure.  When  an 
expert  accountant  reported  his  examination  of  the 
books  to  the  subscribers  at  the  end  of  the  season, 
he  pointed  out  that  this  theatre,  in  contrast  to 
nine  out  of  ten  in  the  non-commercial  class,  not 
only  finished  the  season  with  a  surplus,  but  knew 
exactly  where  every  cent  of  its  five  thousand  and 
odd  dollars  had  gone,  with  the  exception  of  the 
general  expense  item  from  the  first  play.  This 
sort  of  common-sense  administration  means  in- 
creased confidence  among  the  theatre's  supporters, 
firm  foundations  for  every  new  project,  and  peace 
of  mind  for  director,  manager,  and  owners. 

The  bookkeeping  system  adopted  at  the  Arts 
and  Crafts  Theatre  was  of  the  ordinary  double- 
entry  sort.  By  taking  a  trial  balance  at  any  time 
it  was  possible  to  know  not  only  the  standing  of 
the  theatre  as  a  whole,  but  whether  the  production 
in  hand  was  keeping  within  estimates.  A  bal- 
ance was  taken  after  every  production,  and  it  was 
then  possible  to  readjust  apportionments  for  the 
remainder  of  the  season. 

One  cannot  emphasize  too  strongly  the  impor- 
tance of  planning  ahead  and  seeing  the  necessary 
money  in  sight  before  launching  a  series  of  pro- 
ductions.    Budget-making   is,   indeed,   the   first 

203 


The  Art  Theatre 

important  step  after  preliminary  organization  has 
been  effected.  Usually  the  director  and  con- 
trolling board  make  a  rough  estimate  of  the  prob- 
able cost  for  the  season.  Then  the  manager  and 
subscription  committee  start  their  campaign. 
After  the  field  for  subscriptions  has  been  can- 
vassed so  that  a  fairly  accurate  estimate  of  the 
income  can  be  made,  the  director  will  probably 
have  to  make  revised  cost  estimates.  But  the 
final  budget  (because  the  only  one  based  on  the 
amount  of  money  actually  available)  will  be  that 
made  at  the  time  actual  work  on  the  first  produc- 
tion is  begun. 

I  wish  to  emphasize  also  the  wisdom  of  econo- 
mizing on  the  first  production  of  a  season.  The 
tendency  to  "splurge"  at  the  beginning  is  likely 
to  bring  results  similar  to  those  recently  exper- 
ienced at  Pittsburgh.  More  than  one  little 
theatre  worker  has  told  me  that  a  safe  system  is 
to  deduct  ten  per  cent  of  the  subscription  money 
for  overhead  expense  and  permanent  equipment, 
and  then  divide  the  balance  by  the  number  of 
productions,  in  order  to  find  the  amount  to  be 
spent  on  the  first  production.  In  other  words, 
do  not  count  at  all  on  box  office  sales,  but  make 
your  beginning  performance  on  the  basis  of  sub- 
scription returns  only.  Doubtless  there  will  be 
some  sales  to  the  general  public,  but  at  the  start 
204 


Organization  and  Management 

no  one  ever  knows  just  how  small  they  may  be. 
Usually  they  turn  out  to  be  about  one-third  of  the 
most  conservative  estimates.  After  the  first  pro- 
duction is  over,  it  is  possible  to  revise  estimates 
to  include  money  taken  in  at  the  box  office,  and  to 
plan  more  expensive  productions  on  that  safe 
basis. 

If  the  theatre  does  not  own  its  home,  the 
rent  charge  must  be  added  to  the  ten  per  cent 
allowed  for  overhead  expense  and  permanent  in- 
vestment; and  at  the  beginning  of  a  theatre's 
career  there  will  be  extra  expense  for  initial 
equipment.  Other  items  will  also  have  to  be  ac- 
counted for  in  apportioning  the  income  under 
special  conditions.  But  the  point  to  be  remem- 
bered is  that  the  business  manager  must  always 
be  in  a  position  to  say  to  the  board,  "Your  next 
production  cannot  safely  cost  more  than  such- 
and-such  an  amount."  And  the  artist-director 
must  trim  his  budget  to  come  within  that  amount. 
If  he  complains  that  he  is  hampered  by  the  low 
expenditure  allowed,  the  controlling  group  can 
point  out  only  two  ways  to  meet  the  situation: 
choose  plays  less  expensive  to  produce,  or  cut 
down  the  number  of  productions.  For  the  first 
law  of  little  theatre  economics  is  that  the  cost  of 
production  must  be  kept  within  the  means  avail- 
able. 

205 


The  Art  Theatre 


In  setting  down  here  lists  of  the  expenditures 
and  receipts  of  a  typical  American  little  theatre,  I 
do  not  mean  to  suggest  that  these  can  be  made  the 
basis  of  a  budget  for  a  mature  art  theatre  scheme. 
Beyond  pointing  out  that  sound  business  manage- 
ment is  necessary  to  the  ideal  institution,  as  it  is 
to  its  forerunner,  the  little  theatre,  one  can  say 
little  definitely  about  the  administration  of  a  true 
repertory  art  theatre.  There  is  no  experience  on 
which  to  base  estimates.  It  is  necessary  to  learn 
by  establishing  such  theatres  and  applying  com- 
mon sense  during  the  first  year — or  by  working 
forward  phase  by  phase  from  the  present  amateur 
basis  to  the  professionalized-amateur  ideal. 

But  this  record  should  prove  valuable  to  be- 
ginning groups,  and  suggestive  to  other  theatre 
workers  in  the  amateur  field.  The  Arts  and 
Crafts  Theatre  represents  a  typical  phase  through 
which  the  ^re-art  theatre  must  pass.  Certainly 
most  communities  must  have  such  a  theatre  be- 
fore they  attain  the  ideal  sketched  in  this  book. 

In  studying  these  figures  one  must  take  into 
consideration  certain  variable  quantities  and 
make  allowance  for  items  which  differ  as  one 
moves  from  city  to  city.  First  it  is  to  be  remem- 
bered that  the  Society  of  Arts  and  Crafts  owns 
206 


Organization  and  Management 

its  building,  and  therefore  the  item  of  rent  does 
not  appear.  The  settings  were  for  the  most  part 
constructed  in  the  theatre,  and  so  cost  consider- 
ably less  than  those  bought  from  so-called  scenic 
studios;  and  there  is  also  a  large  saving  here 
through  the  frequent  use  of  variations  of  the 
permanent  setting,  and  through  volunteer  labour 
in  painting  other  settings.  With  those  reserva- 
tions the  figures  are  typical. 

Expenditures  for  Season  of  Five  Producitgns 

First  production $   990.35 

Second  production  954.24 

Third  production 925.90 

Fourth  production  866.99 

Fifth  production   1,099.13 

Overhead  expense  (organization,  box  office,  etc.)^  519.24 
Permanent  properties 50.82 

Total $5,406.67 

APPORTIONMENT   OF   EXPENDITURES 

Royalties  $    315.00 

Properties   143.75 

Costumes 519.91 

Settings:     Lumber    $142.65 

Dry  goods  61,24 

Paints 56.23 

Hardware 130.98 

Labour  126.00       517.10 

*  This  overhead  charge  does  not,  of  course,  include  the  director's 

207 


The  Art  Theatre 

Electrical  supplies  and  electrician    $  100.49 

Extra  labour  (carpenter  and  electrician) 102.75 

Stage-hands    95.25 

Wigs  and  make-up 83.00 

Music 39.00 

Printing    273.85 

Typing  parts    15.95 

Cartage   35.09 

Director's  salary  (five  months)  ^ 2,500.00 

General  expense  '^ 665.53 

Total  $5,406.67 

RECEIPTS 

Subscriptions    $4,412.50 

Box  office  sales  1,083.75 

Total $5,496.25 

salary.  One  month's  salary  is  charged  against  each  of  the  five 
productions. 

1  At  the  end  of  the  year  the  question  came  up  whether  this  item 
was  not  excessively  large  in  proportion  to  the  whole  cost  of  the 
season.  It  must  be  remembered  that  in  this  particular  case  the 
Director's  salary  covered  also  that  of  a  business  manager,  since 
Mrs.  Hume  did  practically  all  the  work  with  which  that  officer 
would  be  charged.  But  the  argument  which  brought  about  Mr. 
Hume's  re-appointment  was  this:  it  is  better  to  employ  at  a  high 
cost  the  best  artist-director  available,  and  end  the  season  with  a 
record  of  both  artistic  and  financial  success,  than  to  employ  a 
cheaper  director  and  have  poorer  productions  with  a  probable 
deficit  at  the  end  of  the  year. 

*  This  item  includes  box  office  expense,  advertising,  fees  to  lec- 
tiu-ers,  and  the  unapportioned  item  mentioned  on  page  202,  as  well 
as  the  usual  incidentals. 

208 


Organization  and  Management 

The  box  office  sales  were  as  follows:  1st  pro- 
duction, $214.75;  2nd  production,  $130.00;  3rd 
production,  $215.50;  4th  production,  $238.50; 
5th  production,  $285.00.  There  was  thus  a 
steady  gain  in  sales  from  the  second  play  to  the 
last. 

VI 

Advertising  is  a  matter  of  puzzlement  to  the 
average  little  theatre  group.  The  mature  art 
theatre,  playing  continuously,  will  have  to  an- 
nounce its  offerings  through  newspaper  columns; 
but  even  it  will  save  all  that  the  commercial  man- 
ager now  spends  for  display  space  in  the  papers 
and  on  billboards.  And  for  the  average  little 
theatre  it  is  a  question  whether  any  sort  of  bought 
advertising  pays.  Those  of  us  who  have  had  to 
do  with  the  project  at  Detroit,  at  any  rate,  have 
become  convinced  that  publicity  for  such  a  theatre 
depends  on  pleasing  the  audiences  so  that  they 
talk  about  the  productions  and  encourage  other 
people  to  come.  The  only  productions  adver- 
tised in  the  newspapers  were  the  second  and  third 
in  the  series ;  the  box  office  returns  on  the  second 
were  the  lowest  during  the  season,  and  the  gain 
shown  on  the  third  was  not  such  as  would  indi- 
cate that  the  advertising  had  any  effect  on  at- 
tendance. The  money  paid  to  the  newspapers 
seems  to  have  been  dead  waste. 

209 


The  Art  Theatre 

The  publicity  gained  through  newspaper  criti- 
cisms likewise  seemed  to  have  little  effect  on  the 
growth  of  the  theatre.  At  first  an  effort  was 
made  to  interest  the  dramatic  critics.  The  lead- 
ing morning  paper  boasts  that  its  dramatic  de- 
partment is  directed  by  the  dean  of  American 
critics.  It  is  a  commentary  on  the  state  of 
American  criticism  that  this  writer  not  only  re- 
fused to  cover  the  first  production  at  the  Arts  and 
Crafts  Theatre,  but  did  not  once  set  foot  in  the 
house  during  the  season.  He  wrote  amiably 
enough  of  musical  comedies  and  other  importa- 
tions from  Broadway,  but  he  let  it  be  known  that 
it  would  be  beneath  his  dignity  to  attend  the  pro- 
ductions of  unpaid  actors.  The  critics  of  the 
evening  papers  proved  to  be  less  case-hardened, 
and  even  though  the  assignment  was  given  as 
often  as  not  to  a  sporting  writer  or  a  cub  reporter, 
the  reviews  toward  the  end  of  the  season  showed 
many  gleams  of  intelligent  appreciation  and 
criticism.  But  the  average  was  such  that  during 
the  coming  season,  if  the  director  has  his  way, 
the  theatre  will  issue  no  press  passes.  If  the 
papers  consider  the  productions  of  sufficient  news 
value  to  warrant  paying  the  usual  admittance  fee, 
they  can  send  their  reviewers.  Their  attitude  in 
the  past  has  not  made  it  worth  while  for  the  pro- 
moters to  meet  them  halfway. 

210  ;     .  :I 


Organization  and  Management 

Detroit,  unfortunately,  is  not  an  exceptional 
city  in  the  matter  of  dramatic  criticism.  En- 
lightened and  unprejudiced  reviews  are  univer- 
sally rare.  It  was  part  of  the  theatrical  trust's 
work  to  stifle  honest  criticism,  and  to  gain  control 
of  all  channels  of  publicity.  American  news- 
paper owners,  be  it  said  to  their  dishonour,  bowed 
to  the  system  as  a  rule.  That  was  nearly  twenty 
years  ago;  but  even  today  the  relation  between 
the  average  paper's  advertising  department  and 
its  dramatic  reviews  is  such  as  to  make  news- 
paper honesty  a  matter  for  national  shame. 

The  venal  press,  to  my  mind,  has  had  much  to 
do  with  the  degradation  of  the  theatre  in  this 
country,  and  particularly  with  the  apathy  with 
which  the  public  has  come  to  view  the  playhouse. 
At  first  the  papers  destroyed  all  dramatic  stand- 
ards by  printing  what  they  were  paid  to  print, 
regardless  of  the  value  of  the  play  in  question. 
But  the  public  was  not  long  fooled.  Intelligent 
people  merely  realized  that  they  could  not  believe 
what  they  read  in  the  papers,  and  stopped  going 
to  the  theatres  unless  they  read  in  some  reliable 
magazine  review  that  a  certain  play  was  worth 
while.  It  is  this  attitude  which  now  makes  the 
way  of  the  progressive  theatre  difficult,  and  which 
largely  nullifies  the  great  aid  the  newspapers 
might  otherwise  extend  to  the  little  theatres.     We 

211 


The  Art  Theatre 

need  a  new  standard  of  criticism  as  well  as  a  new 
theatre. 

vn 

Endowment  is  probably  necessary  to  the  de- 
velopment of  the  best  type  of  art  theatre.  In  in- 
sisting upon  good  business  management  I  have 
tried  to  make  clear  the  reservation  that  this  does 
not  necessarily  mean  complete  self-support. 
Business  efficiency  means  merely  elimination  of 
waste,  and  when  one  has  it,  one  may  still  need  to 
lean  upon  a  subsidy.  It  is  certain  that  a  theatre 
searching  for  the  highest  ideal  must  have  aid  in 
the  beginning;  and  even  in  its  maturity  an  en- 
dowment is  likely  to  make  it  a  real  art  institution 
instead  of  a  compromise. 

In  Europe  the  best  theatres  are  seldom  expected 
to  succeed  as  speculative  business  ventures.  The 
most  important  theatres  in  France  and  Germany, 
with  a  few  exceptions,  are  to  be  found  in  the  list 
of  those  receiving  state,  municipal,  or  private  sub- 
sidies. When  one  thinks  of  the  playhouses  in 
which  greatest  progress  has  been  made  toward  the 
new  synthetic  ideal  of  production,  one  remembers 
that  the  Moscow  Art  Theatre,  now  a  profitable 
affair,  was  able  to  get  through  its  early  years  only 
by  the  generosity  of  a  wealthy  amateur;  and  the 
Irish  Players  survived  their  early  struggles  by 
212 


Organization  and  Management 

grace  of  Miss  Horniman's  subsidy.  In  this 
country  the  Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre  is  endowed 
to  the  extent  of  being  freed  from  the  rent  burden, 
and  the  Neighborhood  Playhouse  in  New  York 
operates  under  the  same  advantage.  The  Chi- 
cago Little  Theatre,  on  the  other  hand,  staggered 
for  years  under  the  rent  charge.  But  it  recently 
created  for  itself  a  sort  of  endowment  after-the- 
fact  by  going  through  bankruptcy  proceedings. 
But  America  has  yet  to  see  a  properly  subsidized 
playhouse. 

When  a  writer  or  artist  says  that  he  wants  en- 
dowed theatres,  people  begin  to  talk  about  the 
New  Theatre,  or  others  made  in  its  image.  I 
have  already  pointed  out  that  that  institution  was 
not  really  endowed;  and  even  if  it  had  been,  it 
would  have  had  to  go  through  many  radical 
changes  to  become  a  true  art  theatre.  We  do  not 
want  institutions  of  that  sort,  and  we  especially 
do  not  want  theatres  similarly  unrelated  to  their 
communities.  What  I  wish  to  see  is  wise  sub- 
sidizing of  the  really  progressive  little  theatres 
that  have  their  roots  in  native  soil,  with  a  grow- 
ing endowment  as  they  progress  toward  art 
theatre  stature. 

No  sort  of  endowment  is  worth  while  if  it  gives 
an  unenlightened  rich  man  control  over  produc- 
tions.    The  stage  must  be  left  to  the  artists,  with- 

213 


The  Art  Theatre 

out  interference  from  those  who  have  made  their 
activity  possible.  It  is  unwise,  moreover,  to  give 
patrons  a  reward  in  the  shape  of  an  option  on 
the  best  seats  in  the  house.  Endowment  should 
be  absolute,  leaving  the  theatre  free  economically 
and  artistically.  It  should  provide  for  adminis- 
tration through  a  controlling  board,  which  should 
be  representative  of  the  community  and  which 
should  have  artistic  insight  enough  to  employ  the 
right  artists.  Beyond  that  provision  the  rich 
man  should  make  no  restrictions  on  his  gift. 

It  seems  to  be  the  rule  in  Anglo-Saxon  countries 
that  art  must  thrive  on  starvation  or  die.  Our 
commercial  organization  makes  no  provision  for 
adequate  return  to  the  artist  for  his  product. 
The  better  the  quality  of  the  art,  the  less  is  offered 
in  exchange  for  it.  Those  who  have  the  means  to 
encourage  the  creative  artist  usually  lack  the  taste 
and  discernment  necessary  to  recognize  the 
worthy,  and  the  passion  for  art  which  would 
make  their  giving  seem  necessary.  Achievement 
of  the  ideal  art  theatre,  nevertheless,  largely  de- 
pends upon  opportunity  created  by  moneyed  peo- 
ple. It  all  comes  back  to  the  question,  "How  are 
we  to  persuade  the  unseeing  millionaire?" 

I  trust  that  the  few  millionaires  with  whom  I 
have  talked  about  these  things  will  realize  that  I 
speak  of  their  kind  in  the  abstract — for  I  know 
214 


Organization  and  Management 

that  there  are  fine  exceptions  to  the  rule  of  art- 
blindness.  But  I  confess  that  I  have  wondered, 
as  I  sat  with  some  of  them,  that  they  so  failed  to 
see  the  true  and  ultimate  value  of  things — that 
they  so  entirely  overlooked  the  chance  to  do  a 
lasting  service  (and  incidentally  achieve  a  lasting 
fame)  in  the  building  of  civilization.  For  I  be- 
lieve passionately  in  art  as  a  force  for  salvation — 
that  the  things  art  brings,  beauty  and  spiritual 
growth,  are  the  most  important  things  in  human 
life.  And  so  when  the  mood  is  on  me,  even  my 
friends'  millions  are  not  safe  from  my  envy,  nor 
do  I  keep  myself  from  ruminating  on  what  an  art 
institution  the  spending  of  those  millions  would 
yield. 

I  see  him  (in  the  composite)  before  me  now, 
sitting  there  talking  of  his  practical  problems, 
while  I  wonder  at  all  the  possibilities  for  good  or 
evil — or  worse  still,  just  for  common  uselessness 
— that  are  shut  up  in  his  checkbook.  I  am  im- 
patient at  times  when  I  think  of  his  imitation 
Italian  sunken  garden,  on  which  he  has  squan- 
dered the  price  of  an  ideal  art  theatre  building; 
and  I  sometimes  see  a  suggestion  of  injustice  in 
his  second  automobile,  that  would  secure  a  strug- 
gling artist  five  years  of  study  and  creative  effort. 
As  often  as  not  I  end  by  thinking  that  after  all 
we  might  just  as  well  give  up  the  effort  for  a  sub- 

215 


The  Art  Theatre 

sidized  art — that  after  all  we  are  Anglo-Saxons, 
and  may  as  well  resign  ourselves  to  the  traditional 
Anglo-Saxon  way. 

But  at  other  times,  I  think  that  I  see  a  way  to 
bring  art  and  those  millions  together.  After  we 
artists,  and  dreamers,  and  radicals,  and  planners, 
have  passed  through  a  few  years  of  struggle  (he 
knows  that  struggle  is  good  for  our  souls — but 
sometimes  he  forgets  that  the  soul  dries  up  after 
too  many  years  of  it)  we  shall  emerge  with  ideas 
too  clearly  right,  and  too  well-ordered,  for  him  to 
stand  out  against  them.  Then  if  we  show  him 
that  we  have  declared  for  sound  business  man- 
agement, as  well  as  for  art,  he  will  be  won  over, 
checkbook  and  all.  And  then  we  shall  have  a 
chain  of  wisely  endowed  efficient  art  theatres 
from  the  Atlantic  Coast  to  the  Pacific. 


216 


CHAPTER  X 

BUILDINGS    AND    EQUIPMENT 

WHEN  artists  of  the  theatre  set  out  to 
capture  that  illusive  thing  called 
mood,  they  proceed  by  bringing  har- 
mony into  every  related  part  of  the  production. 
In  voice,  in  movement,  in  lighting,  in  scene,  they 
attempt  to  create  an  atmosphere  which  will  be  all- 
pervasive,  and  which  will  project  itself  as  a  spir- 
itual spell  over  the  spectators  in  the  auditorium. 
But  they  are  handicapped  at  the  start  if  the  build- 
ing in  which  the  play  is  presented  does  not  serve 
to  foster  that  mood,  if  it  tends  to  destroy  rather 
than  reinforce  the  spiritual  milieu  of  the  produc- 
tion. The  synthetic  ideal  has  a  very  definite 
connotation  in  relation  to  theatre  architecture ;  the 
connection  is  such,  indeed,  that  one  cannot  insist 
too  strongly  upon  the  necessity  of  housing  an  art 
theatre  in  a  noble  building. 


American  theatre  architecture  as  a  rule  is  pre- 
tentious, ornate,  and  thoroughly  vulgar.     When 

217 


The  Art  Theatre 

architects  approached  the  problem  of  building  a 
playhouse  they  accepted  a  totally  false  conception 
of  their  duty.  They  saw  the  theatre  as  a  place  of 
amusement  designed  to  attract  the  money-spend- 
ing public,  and  so  they  reflected  its  commercial 
character  in  glitter,  gaudiness  and  red-plush  pre- 
tentiousness. They  accepted  the  business  man's 
estimate  of  the  theatre  as  the  home  of  "the  show 
business."  And  so  their  buildings  range  from  a 
type  neighbouring  on  the  sensational  five-cent 
moving-picture  house  to  a  type  conceived  as  a  sort 
of  Coney  Island  for  intellectuals.  They  found 
what  they  considered  authoritative  precedent  for 
"heaping  it  on"  in  that  culmination  of  the  French- 
Italian  social-dramatic  ideal,  the  ornate  Paris 
Opera  House. 

And  so  today  the  average  American  theatre  is 
entirely  out  of  key  with  everything  that  the  new 
art  of  the  theatre  stands  for.  It  is  not  dignified, 
or  simple,  or  beautiful;  it  not  only  fails  to  re- 
inforce actively  the  mood  evoked  by  the  play, 
but  it  is  not  even  neutral  and  reposeful  enough 
to  leave  the  spectator's  mind  free  to  enjoy  that 
mood.  A  vast  majority  of  the  existing  play- 
houses in  America  must  be  abandoned  by  the  in- 
surgents to  the  commercial  theatre,  together  with 
most  of  the  people  and  plays  in  them. 


218 


Buildings  and  Equipment 

n 

A  few  theatres  have  been  built  recently  which 
approach  the  new  ideal.  While  we  Americans 
have  not  made  one-tenth  the  progress  of  the  Ger- 
mans, for  instance,  and  while  we  have  not  an 
architect  who  can  be  named  in  the  same  breath 
with  Max  Littmann,  we  can  look  with  real  satis- 
faction on  Winthrop  Ames'  Little  Theatre;  and 
we  can  find  encouragement  in  certain  features  of 
the  Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre,  the  Chicago  Little 
Theatre,  the  Artists'  Guild  Theatre,  the  Neigh- 
borhood Playhouse,  and  two  or  three  others  of  the 
newer  buildings. 

These  playhouses  tend  to  reflect  in  their  design 
and  decoration  the  underlying  principles  of  the 
art  of  the  theatre.  In  their  best  aspects  they  are 
marked  by  those  things  which  distinguish  the  new 
movement  from  the  old  tendencies.  They  are 
characterized  by  a  noble  simplicity  of  design, 
sincerity,  reticence  and  reposefulness.  They  are 
pleasing  in  an  unobtrusive  way,  and  not  in  the 
boastful  manner  of  the  Paris  Opera.  They  are 
planned  to  harmonize  with  the  best  phases  of 
dramatic  art,  and  not  with  its  surface  glitter. 

I  once  tried  to  sketch  my  architectural  ideal  of 
a  playhouse,  and  I  wish  to  quote  this  earlier  de- 
scription as  suggesting  what  I  believe  the  Ameri- 

219 


The  Art  Theatre 

can  art  theatre  should  be  in  design  and  decora- 
tion. "In  the  first  place  it  is  clear  that  the  build- 
ing will  not  attract  the  eye  by  gorgeousness  and 
intricacy,  but  rather  will  satisfy  it  simply,  with  a 
sense  of  beauty  and  repose.  The  facade  will  be 
distinguished  by  sobriety  and  simplicity.  There 
will  be  in  it  the  dignity  that  breeds  solemnity — 
that  dignity  which  heretofore  has  been  reserved 
almost  exclusively  for  the  church.  .  .  .  The 
theatre  architect,  when  once  he  has  recognized  the 
qualities  that  the  facade  should  reflect,  will  real- 
ize that  the  perfect  accomplishment  is  less  a  mat- 
ter of  decorating — what  crimes  have  been  com- 
mitted in  the  name  of  decoration !  — than  the  per- 
fect balancing  of  simple  lines  and  well-ordered 
masses.  Avoiding  on  the  one  hand  the  fussy  and 
the  gaudy,  and  on  the  other  the  classically  cold, 
he  will  evolve  from  the  infinite  possibilities  that 
combination  of  restful  lines  and  perfect  spacing 
which  most  exactly  solves  the  problem  at  hand, 
and  most  perfectly  reflects  the  inner  spirit  of 
drama. 

"Within  the  theatre  there  will  be  quite  as  rigid 
exclusion  of  distracting  detail  and  unmeaning 
ornament.  In  the  interior  even  more  than  in  the 
exterior  it  is  desirable  that  everything  shall  be 
designed  to  induce  concentration  rather  than  to 
scatter  the  attention.  A  chaste  simplicity  in 
220 


Buildings  and  Equipment 

decorative  forms,  and  a  beautiful  and  subtle  har- 
mony in  colouring,  are  far  more  conducive  to  a 
sense  of  calm  contemplation  than  a  riot  of  im- 
meaning  ornament  and  brilliant  colour.^  A 
certain  richness  in  decoration  is  not  out  of  place 
within  the  theatre,  but  it  should  be  less  the  rich- 
ness of  profusion  than  that  which  comes  from 
simple  forms  combined  with  just  the  right  deco- 
rative touch  by  a  master  artist." 

Is  it  necessary  to  add  that  the  art  theatre  will 
be  democratic?  That  it  will  offer  a  complete 
and  satisfying  view  of  the  stage  from  every  seat? 
That  the  old  horse-shoe  style  of  auditorium  will 
give  way  to  the  simpler  form  adopted  by  Littmann 
and  others  of  the  leading  progressives?  That 
the  chairs  will  not  be  deeply  cushioned  in  one 
portion  of  the  house,  decently  covered  in  another, 
and  merely  bare  wooden  benches  in  another? 
And  of  course  I  cast  my  vote  against  having  any 
boxes  in  a  sensible  theatre.  They  are  relics  of 
a  barbaric  era,  when  the  display  of  wealth  was 

*  Jxist  such  chaste  simplicity  and  delicacy  of  coloxiring  made 
Helen  Freeman's  Nine  O' Clock  Theatre  in  New  York  a  joy  to 
the  beholder.  The  theatre  was  closed  almost  before  its  work 
had  started,  so  that  its  dramatic  achievement  was  slight;  but 
every  theatre  designer  should  have  been  forced  to  visit  it  as  an 
object  lesson.  In  no  other  auditorium  have  I  experienced  the 
same  feeling  of  restfulness,  and  the  same  sense  of  freedom  from 
jarring  notes. 

221 


The  Art  Theatre 

a  primary  aim,  and  when  the  social  occasion  was 
more  important  than  the  dramatic. 

in 

The  architect  who  plans  an  art  theatre  must  be 
trained  in  more  than  the  aesthetic  requirements 
of  synthetic  production;  he  must  have  wide 
knowledge  of  the  technical  demands  as  well.  He 
must  be  a  very  close  student  of  modern  stagecraft, 
or  his  building  may  prove  to  be  out-of-date  and 
impossible  for  the  new  artist  of  the  theatre  when 
the  first  production  goes  on.  He  must  know  that 
a  plaster  dome  (or  provision  for  the  best  sort  of 
cyclorama)  is  an  absolute  necessity.  If  the 
owners  are  ready  to  pay  for  all  that  the  artist 
asks,  the  architect  must  be  informed  about  revolv- 
ing stages  and  sliding  stages.  He  must  know 
also  what  the  artist  means  by  "fixed  portals"  and 
"inner  proscenium,"  and  he  should  know  what 
has  been  done  toward  the  invention  of  a  satisfac- 
tory adjustable  proscenium.  He  must  know 
why  Fortuny  set  out  to  revolutionize  stage  light- 
ing, what  he  accomplished,  and  what  modifica- 
tions later  artists  have  made  by  way  of  improv- 
ing his  system.  In  this  matter  of  lighting  equip- 
ment particularly  the  architect  must  have  the  most 
comprehensive  knowledge,  if  he  would  do  justice 
to  the  producers  who  will  use  his  theatre.  For  it 
222 


Buildings  and  Equipment 

is  no  longer  possible  to  let  out  to  an  electrical  firm 
a  blanket  contract  for  "a  lighting  system." 

As  a  matter  of  fact  there  is  not  an  architect  in 
the  country  today  who  combines  the  necessary 
knowledge  of  his  own  art  with  the  necessary  ex- 
perience on  a  stage.  It  is  a  sweeping  statement; 
but  a  moment's  reflection  should  resolve  all 
doubts.  For  the  reform  in  stagecraft  has  been 
developing  so  rapidly  that  only  those  working 
continually  in  the  progressive  theatres  know  ab- 
solutely which  of  the  new  inventions  are  practical 
and  which  are  more  dangerous  than  useful.  The 
really  important  architect  cannot  take  time  to  ex- 
periment day  in  and  day  out  with  the  latest  in- 
novations ;  and  as  yet  there  are  no  books  that  tell 
one-tenth  the  story. 

For  a  group  planning  to  build  a  little  theatre 
or  a  big  theatre — indeed,  any  building  at  all  ap- 
proaching art  theatre  standards — I  should  ad- 
vise just  one  solution  of  the  stage  equipment  prob- 
lem: call  in  one  of  the  really  progressive  artist- 
directors,  and  let  him  and  the  architect  fight  it  out, 
with  the  provision  that  the  artist-director's  word 
shall  be  final  in  all  questions  of  equipment  be- 
hind the  curtain. 

Do  not  let  the  architect  do  it  alone — we  have 
more  than  enough  monuments  to  his  ignorance — 
and  do  not  let  him  work  it  out  with  the  sort  of 

223 


The  Art  Theatre 

professional  advice  he  is  likely  to  call  to  his  aid 
from  the  business  theatre.  Call  in,  rather,  an 
experienced  artist  of  the  type  of  Sam  Hume  or 
Maurice  Browne;  or  if  it  be  a  monumental 
theatre,  Joseph  Urban.  These  people  know  the 
stage  and  stage  equipment  in  the  light  of  the  new 
ideals.  Their  advice  is  likely  to  save  the  theatre 
from  the  necessity  of  making  expensive  altera- 
tions later — and  it  will  save  a  deal  of  cussing  and 
disappointment  on  the  part  of  the  artists. 

IV 

The  size  of  an  ideal  art  theatre  is  a  matter  for 
speculation  rather  than  for  estimate  on  the  basis 
of  experience.  The  very  large  theatre  is  doubt- 
less passing.  The  house  seating  two  thousand 
or  more  people  is  going  out  of  fashion  because  its 
dimensions  are  such  that  the  intimacy  demanded 
by  the  new  ideal  is  impossible  there.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  is  a  tendency  on  the  part  of  the 
insurgents  to  make  their  auditoriums  too  small, 
even  where  space  and  expense  do  not  dictate  a 
limit.  Littleness  is  made  a  fetich,  and  many 
a  group  will  waken  later  to  the  fact  that  the  size 
of  its  auditorium  is  limiting  its  artistic  develop- 
ment. 

My  own  ideal  theatre  would  provide  a  seating 
capacity  of  seven  or  eight  hundred.  It  is  by  no 
224 


Buildings  and  Equipment 

means  certain  that  a  repertory  playhouse  of  that 
size  could  be  made  a  financial  success  in  an  aver- 
age American  city  without  a  substantial  subsidy. 
But  it  seems  to  me  that  such  a  theatre  would  come 
nearest  to  combining  economic  independence 
with  a  satisfying  intimacy  of  atmosphere.  It 
might  be  possible  to  bring  the  number  of  seats  up 
to  approximately  one  thousand  and  still  avoid  the 
barn-like  atmosphere  of  most  of  our  existing 
theatres. 

In  other  words,  a  theatre  seating  fewer  than 
seven  hundred  people  is  likely  to  demand,  for  con- 
tinuous art  theatre  production  by  a  paid  com- 
pany, a  larger  subsidy  than  any  we  can  now  rea- 
sonably expect;  and  a  smaller  theatre,  moreover, 
will  not  be  able  to  serve  its  city  as  a  community 
playhouse  in  any  wide  sense.  On  the  other 
hand,  a  theatre  seating  more  than  a  thousand  is 
likely  to  be  too  vast  in  proportions  to  foster  the 
sense  of  intimacy  and  to  keep  the  attention  of  all 
the  spectators  concentrated  on  the  stage.  The 
ideal  art  theatre  figure  seems  to  lie  between  these 
limits. 


I  have  said  nothing  about  planning  dressing- 
rooms.  I  take  it  for  granted  that  the  architect 
will  consider  that  the  art  theatre  is  to  be  used  by 

225 


The  Art  Theatre 

ladies  and  gentlemen,  and  that  their  dressing- 
rooms  are  to  be  quite  different  from  the  pens  pro- 
vided in  the  usual  commercial  theatre.  He  will 
remember,  too,  that  the  green  room  disappeared 
from  the  American  playhouse  only  when  business- 
men got  the  upper  hand,  and  he  will  restore  it  in 
his  design.  And  if  he  can  make  space  available 
by  any  sort  of  manipulation,  he  should  add  a 
rehearsal  hall. 

But  now  that  I  am  writing  about  what  he  might 
do,  instead  of  what  he  must  do,  let  me  add  that 
the  theatre  I  dream  of — the  building  I  shall  have 
when  I  am  considerably  older  and  immeasur- 
ably wealthier  than  now — will  be  a  double 
theatre.  It  will  have  a  large  auditorium  and  a 
small — one  for  the  usual  types  of  drama,  and  the 
other  for  very  intimate  plays  and  for  experi- 
ments. And  both  these  auditoriums  will  be  beau- 
tiful according  to  the  principles  I  have  tried  to 
suggest  at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter.  Both 
stages  will  be  equipped  under  the  supervision  of 
the  most  enlightened  artist-director  in  the  coun- 
try. And  there  will  be  a  library  for  study  as  well 
as  a  rehearsal  hall.  And  if  I  am  very  wealthy 
indeed,  there  will  be  an  open-air  theatre  by  way  of 
annex. 

Yes,  it  is  only  a  dream.  But  only  when  a  num- 
ber of  us  dream  such  things  shall  we  be  able  to 
226 


Buildings  and  Equipment 

jolt  the  architect  out  of  his  preoccupation  with 
theatre  ideals  and  theatre  forms  of  an  age  that  is 
as  dead  as  Bulwer-Lytton  and  Boucicault.  Only 
as  we  dream  of  the  ideal  shall  we  have  something 
as  finely  satisfying  as  the  half-dozen  existing  ex- 
ceptions to  the  popular  rule — the  rule  of  making 
the  playhouse  a  gilded  barn  of  commerce. 


227 


/ 


CHAPTER  XI 

UNREALIZED   IDEALS 

THIS  book  has  been  largely  about  unreal- 
ized ideals,  and  the  title  of  this  epilogue 
might  stand  over  more  than  half  the 
chapters.  The  artists  in  the  theatre  stand  only 
on  the  threshold  of  achievement,  and  the  art  thea- 
tre of  the  future  looms  up  as  an  unformed  half- 
imagined  thing.  But  I  wish  here  at  the  end  of 
my  book  to  stand  facing  forward  at  that  thresh- 
old, to  gather  together  the  several  threads  that 
have  brought  the  artists  there,  and  to  gaze  with 
them  (half -dumb,  I  am  afraid)  at  the  wondrous 
thing  that  still  awaits  accomplishment. 


I  think  I  see  spread  before  me  a  new  dramatic 
map  of  America.  It  is  not  like  the  old  one — 
which  appeared  so  strangely  like  an  octopus,  with 
its  bulk  over  New  York  and  its  arms  stretching 
out  to  Canada  and  Texas  and  the  West  coast. 
Instead  there  are  many  independent  centres. 
228 


Unrealized  Ideals 

Each  represents,  I  am  told,  a  native  playhouse 
which  is  concerned  with  the  art  of  the  theatre, 
just  as  in  these  same  cities  there  are  galleries  con- 
cerned with  painting  and  sculpture,  and  libraries 
concerned  with  serious  literature.  The  buildings 
are  individually  beautiful,  and  one  recognizes  in- 
stinctively that  they  are  theatres — that  is,  not 
amusement  halls,  but  places  for  seeing  beautiful 
things  on  a  stage.  Some  of  these  buildings  are 
owned  by  small  groups  of  artists  and  workers, 
others  by  larger  groups  of  art-lovers,  still  others 
by  organized  audiences,  and  finally,  a  few  by 
municipalities.  They  all  are  administered,  how- 
ever, through  enlightened  groups  of  artists,  and 
each  has  its  artist-director  who  is  in  full  charge 
of  staging.  Each  has  a  reasonable  appropria- 
tion each  year,  sometimes  coming  entirely  from 
admission  fees,  and  sometimes  partly  from  en- 
dowments; but  always  the  funds  are  handled  in 
a  businesslike  way  through  a  business  manager 
(for  these  playhouses  have  outgrown  little  thea- 
tre methods).  And  finally,  the  native  playwright 
gets  his  chance  along  with  Shakespeare  and  Synge 
and  Maeterlinck — and,  be  it  noted,  he  is  writing 
plays  not  unworthy  of  the  honour. 

If  you  ask  the  artists  in  one  of  these  playhouses, 
they  will  tell  you  that  it  grew  on  foundations  laid 
years  ago  by  a  group  of  visionaries  who  founded 

229 


The  Art  Theatre 

an  amateurish  little  theatre;  they  were  laughed 
at  by  the  know-it-alls  of  the  business  theatre,  se- 
cure in  the  knowledge  of  traditional  ways  of 
doing  things;  but  they  learned  gradually  to  dis- 
card the  weaknesses  of  the  amateur  while  retain- 
ing his  love  of  the  work,  and  they  chose  certain 
good  things  and  a  few  good  people  out  of  the  com- 
mercial theatre  without  taking  over  any  of  the 
tricks  and  vulgarities  of  the  commercial  institu- 
tion. And  finally  they  became  professionals  of  a 
finer  sort  than  any  employed  by  the  businessmen, 
and  their  playhouse  became  recognized  as  some- 
thing as  necessary  to  the  community  as  the  art 
gallery  or  the  library  or  the  schools. 

That  is  the  ideal  in  general;  and  that  will  be 
the  method  of  its  coming. 

If  you  ask  me  why  I  am  confident  that  it  will 
come,  when  we  have  not  now  a  single  example  of 
an  art  theatre  housed  in  a  perfect  home,  with  a 
reasonable  appropriation  and  ideally  organized, 
I  can  only  point  to  the  Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre 
and  the  Chicago  Little  Theatre  and  the  Washing- 
ton Square  Players,  and  say  that  here  are  tangible 
evidences  that  many  artists  and  some  men  of 
money  have  seen  the  new  ideal.  Indeed,  that 
threshold  is  becoming  a  bit  crowded.  And  just 
a  few  are  crossing  it,  with  timid  feet,  perhaps,  and 
they  are  peering  down  one  corridor  after  another. 
230 


Unrealized  Ideals 

After  a  while,  as  more  artists  and  more  million- 
aires become  interested,  and  when  experience 
lightens  the  dark  places  a  bit,  they  will  step  in 
boldly  and  become  masters  of  the  house. 


231 


A  DISCURSIVE  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

A  BIBLIOGRAPHY  should  be  a  guide 
from  which  the  student  can  learn 
quickly  where  to  turn  for  authoritative 
information  about  a  given  phase  of  a  subject. 
But  I  have  learned  from  experience  that  it  usually 
is  a  list  of  titles  of  all  books  even  remotely  con- 
nected with  that  subject — a  list  that  requires  study 
in  itself  and  leads  into  many  false  trails.  The 
brief  bibliography  that  follows  makes  no  pre- 
tence to  completeness.  But  I  hope  that  it  may 
serve,  better  than  any  hitherto  published,  to  lead 
the  reader  to  the  best  printed  material  (in  Eng- 
lish) about  the  progressive  movement  in  the 
theatre. 

The  pioneer  among  general  works  on  the  newer 
tendencies  of  theatre  art  (as  distinguished  from 
mere  drama)  is  Huntly  Carter's  "The  New  Spirit 
in  Drama  and  Art"  (New  York:  Kennerley, 
1912).  This  contains  first-hand  accounts  of 
theatres  and  methods  of  production  in  the  prin- 
cipal European  cities.  While  the  material  is 
occasionally  coloured  by  Carter's  individualistic 
theories,  and  is  not  closely  co-ordinated,  the  chap- 

233 


A  Discursive  Bibliography 

ters  are  invariably  entertaining  and  remarkably 
suggestive.  The  volume  should  be  studied  and 
re-studied  by  every  one  interested  in  the  new 
theatre.  A  more  practical  handbook  of  informa- 
tion about  the  progressive  theatre  in  its  technical, 
artistic  and  literary  aspects  is  Hiram  Kelly 
Moderwell's  "The  Theatre  of  Today"  (New 
York:  Lane,  1914).  This  contains  an  immense 
amount  of  detailed  material  about  modern  plays, 
methods  of  staging,  organization,  etc.,  and  is  ab- 
solutely indispensable  to  students  of  and  workers 
in  the  art  theatre.  The  only  other  book  attempt- 
ing to  sum  up  modern  tendencies  of  the  theatre 
as  well  as  drama  is  my  work  "The  New  Move- 
ment in  the  Theatre"  (New  York:  Kennerley, 
1914).  I  attempted  therein  to  summarize  the 
movement  as  it  affected  not  only  types  of  play, 
but  stagecraft,  theatre  architecture,  etc. 

Of  books  of  theory,  by  far  the  most  important 
is  Gordon  Craig's  "On  the  Art  of  the  Theatre" 
(Chicago:  Browne's  Bookstore,  1911).  The 
reader  will  find  this  remarkable  volume  preg- 
nant with  new  ideas,  and  stimulating  in  its  urge 
to  get  away  from  tradition  and  to  do  creative 
work  in  the  theatre.  It  is  the  most  important 
source  book  of  the  new  movement.  "Towards  a 
New  Theatre"  (New  York:  Button,  1913)  con- 
tains forty  of  Craig's  designs,  and  its  text  is  worth 
234 


A  Discursive  Bibliography 

reading  and  then  re-reading.  There  is  no  Eng- 
lish translation  of  Adolphe  Appia's  important 
work  "Die  Musik  und  die  Inscenierung,"  nor  is 
there  even  a  fair  transcription  of  his  theories  into 
English.  A  summary  may  be  found  in  French 
in  Jacques  Rouche's  "LArt  Theatral  Moderne," 
which,  by  the  way,  is  the  most  valuable  French 
work  on  progressive  theatre  methods.  Of  the 
theories  and  achievements  of  Max  Reinhardt 
there  is  an  excellent  analytical  account  in  Huntly 
Carter's  "The  Theatre  of  Max  Reinhardt"  (New 
York:  Kennerley,  1914).  This  treats  inciden- 
tally of  most  of  the  theories  and  sources  of  the  art 
theatre  movement,  and  is  a  book  of  prime  im- 
portance. 

Of  special  phases  of  modem  theatre  develop- 
ment, the  literary  revival  has  received  most  at- 
tention from  writers.  Of  interpretative  accounts 
by  far  the  best  is  Ludwig  Lewisohn's  "The  Mod- 
ern Drama"  (New  York:  Huebsch,  1915),  al- 
though one  must  make  allowance  for  the  author's 
bias  toward  Hauptmann  and  for  an  over-valua- 
tion of  the  realistic  movement.  A  more  extensive, 
but  undigested  and  diffuse  account  is  to  be  found 
in  Frank  Wadleigh  Chandler's  "Aspects  of 
Modern  Drama"  (New  York:  Macmillan,  1914). 
A  more  scholarly  and  philosophical  work,  and  one 
dealing  extensively  with  the  social  implications 

235 


A  Discursive  Bibliography 

of  the  new  drama,  is  Archibald  Henderson's  "The 
Changing  Drama"  (New  York:  Holt,  1914).  It 
is,  however,  not  a  good  book  for  the  beginning 
student.  More  in  the  nature  of  textbooks,  with 
study-lists  and  questions,  are  the  volumes  of  Bar- 
rett H.  Clark:  "British  and  American  Drama  of 
Today"  and  "Continental  Drama  of  Today" 
(New  York :  Holt,  1915).  At  the  other  extreme, 
but  still  concerned  exclusively  with  the  literary 
aspect  of  the  theatre,  are  these  volumes  of  essays 
about  individual  dramatists:  P.  P.  Howe's 
"Dramatic  Portraits"  (New  York:  Kennerley, 
1913)  and  James  Huneker's  "Iconoclasts:  A 
Book  of  Dramatists"  (New  York:  Scribner's, 
1905). 

Of  material  about  individual  theatres,  too  little 
has  been  put  into  book  form.  Ernest  A.  Boyd's 
"The  Contemporary  Drama  of  Ireland"  is  almost 
exclusively  an  account  of  the  literary-amateur 
movement  which  resulted  in  the  success  of  the 
Irish  Players,  and  so  makes  stimulating  reading 
for  those  interested  in  the  non-commercial  theatre 
elsewhere.  Desmond  MacCarthy's  "The  Court 
Theatre,  1904-1907"  (London:  Bullen,  1907)  is 
a  suggestive  account  of  the  important  Vedrenne- 
Barker  art  theatre  experiment  in  London.  The 
Deutsches  Theatre  finds  extended  treatment  in 
Carter's  "The  Theatre  of  Max  Reinhardt,"  men- 
236 


A  Discursive  Bibliography 

tioned  above.  It  is  unfortunate  that  there  are  no 
translations  of  A.  Thalasso's  "Le  Theatre  Libre," 
which  describes  Antoine's  experiment  in  detail, 
and  Georg  Fuchs'  "Die  Revolution  des  Thea- 
tres," which  is  a  statement  of  the  principles 
upon  which  the  Munich  Art  Theatre  was 
founded. 

Interesting  material  about  theatre  organization 
may  be  found  in  Archer  and  Barker's  "Schemes 
and  Estimates  for  a  National  Theatre"  (London: 
Duckworth,  1911).  The  repertory  system  is 
treated  at  length  in  P.  P.  Howe's  "The  Repertory 
Theatre,  A  Record  and  a  Criticism"  (New  York: 
Kennerley,  1911).  Percy  MacKaye's  two  vol- 
umes, "The  Playhouse  and  the  Play"  (New 
York:  Macmillan,  1909)  and  "The  Civic  Thea- 
tre" (New  York:  Kennerley,  1912),  will  prove 
suggestive  rather  than  informative,  but  are  worthy 
of  attention.  In  order  to  know  the  organization 
of  the  business  theatre,  and  thus  to  learn  many 
things  to  avoid  and  a  few  to  copy,  the  progressive 
worker  should  read  Arthur  Edwin  Krows'  "Play 
Production  in  America"  (New  York:  Holt, 
1916).  It  is  a  remarkably  complete  and  detailed 
account  of  the  commercial  theatre  as  it  exists; 
but  it  is  coloured  by  the  author's  desire  to  make 
out  a  case  for  the  American  producer  as  against 
the  European,  and  it  shows  lack  of  understand- 

237 


A  Discursive  Bibliography 

ing  of  some  of  the  first  principles  of  art  theatre 
production. 

There  is  no  satisfactory  book  in  English  deal- 
ing with  theatre  architecture.  The  so-called 
standard  work,  Edwin  O.  Sachs'  "Modern  Opera 
Houses  and  Theatres"  (London:  Batsford, 
1908),  is  important  historically,  but  is  now  en- 
tirely out-of-date  in  its  treatment  of  both  theatre 
design  and  equipment.  Material  about  the  mod- 
ern form  of  theatre  building  is  scattered,  and  is 
to  be  found  only  by  laborious  search  through 
many  German  books  and  magazines.  The  mat- 
ter is  touched  upon  briefly  in  Moderwell's  "The 
Theatre  of  Today,"  Carter's  "The  New  Spirit  in 
Drama  and  Art"  and  my  "The  New  Movement 
in  the  Theatre." 

Current  conditions  in  the  American  theatre  are 
best  reflected,  perhaps,  in  the  collected  dramatic 
reviews  of  Walter  Prichard  Eaton  and  Clayton 
Hamilton.  A  more  studied  general  review  is  to 
be  found  in  certain  chapters  of  Thomas  H.  Dick- 
inson's valuable  volume  "The  Case  of  American 
Drama"  (Boston:  Houghton,  Mifflin,  1915). 

Of  periodicals  the  most  important  one  dealing 
with  the  new  theatre  exclusively  is  Gordon 
Craig's  "The  Mask"  (Florence,  Italy:  The  Arena 
Goldoni,  1908-1915).  This  publication  is  full 
of  that  stimulating  quality  which  marks  all  of 
238 


A  Discursive  Bibliography 

Craig's  writings,  and  it  has  already  had  great  in- 
fluence in  shaping  the  progressive  theatre.  The 
Drama,  A  Quarterly  Review  of  Dramatic  Liter- 
ature (Chicago:  The  Drama  League  of  America, 
1911-date)  has  published  much  valuable  mate- 
rial on  the  literary  aspect,  and  occasional  articles 
of  a  broader  nature.  Theatre  Arts  Magazine 
(Detroit:  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre,  1916- 
date)  is  devoted  entirely  to  progressive  tendencies 
in  the  theatre,  and  is  taking  its  place  as  the  organ 
of  the  art  theatre  groups  in  this  country. 


239 


APPENDIX 

A  LIST  OF  PRODUCTIONS  AT  THE  ARTS  AND 
CRAFTS  THEATRE  DURING  ITS  FIRST  SEA- 
SON, 1916-1917,  WITH  THE  CASTS 

Because  it  was  part  of  the  purpose  of  this  book  to  record 
in  permanent  form  the  activities  of  the  Arts  and  Crafts 
Theatre  during  its  first  year,  the  full  list  of  productions 
is  here  given,  with  lists  of  those  taking  part : 

Dedicatory  Performance:  four  one-act  plays 

I.  Sham,  by  Frank  G.  Tompkins 

Mr.  Hibbert  John  Townley 

Charles    Charles  E.  Hilton 

Clara   Lento  Fulwell 

Reporter    Loren  T.  Robinson 

II.  The  Tents  of  the  Arabs,  by  Lord  Dunsany 

Bel-Narb  Carl  Guske 

Aoob    Eugene  J.  Sharkey 

The  King  R.  J.  Elliott 

The  Chamberlain Harry  B.  Elliott 

Zabra  Edward  Loud 

Eznarza  Louise  Vhay 

III.  The  Bank  Account,  by  Howard  Brock 

Lottie  Benson Phyllis  Povah  Elton 

May  Harding Winifred  Scripps  Ellis 

Frank  Benson A.  L.  Weeks 

241 


Appendix 

IV,     The  Wonder  Hat,  by  Kenneth  Sawyer  Goodman 

Harlequin    Sam  Hume 

Pierrot  Charles  E.  Hilton 

Punchinello A.  L.  Weeks 

Columbine    Lento  Fulwell 

Margot    Betty  Brooks 

First  Production  of  the  Little  Theatre  Season:  three  one- 
act  plays 

I.  Abraham  and  Isaac 

The  cast  of  this  old  English  play  was  made  up  largely 
of  choruses.  The  following  were  the  principal  partici- 
pants: Sam  Hume,  Frances  Loughton,  Eugene  Rodman 
Shippen,  Carl  Guske  and  Aldred  J,  Jones. 

II.  The  Revesby  Sword  Play 

Pickle  Herring Theodore  Viehman 

The  Fool William  Strauer 

Blue  Breeches Winniett  Wright 

Ginger  Breeches .Edwin  Fiske 

Pepper  Breeches Herbert  Wagner 

Yellow  Breeches Theodore  Keiser 

Mr.  Allspice David  Burgess 

Cicely    Clyde  Varney 

The  Hobby  Horse Seymour  Van  Hauton 

The  Dragon   Edward  Loud 

Mr.  Music  Man Herbert  HarrisMi 

THE  MANOR  HOUSE   GROUP 

Laura  Osborne  Mary  Glassford 

R.  J.  Elliott  Harry  Elliott 

Sidney  Corbett 
242 


Appendix 


III.     Ephraim  and  the  Winged  Bear,  by  Kenneth  Saw- 
yer Goodman 

Ephraim  Bumsteeple .,C.  E.  Hilton 

Bertha   Eva  W.  Victor 

A  Maid Marian  McMichael 

Edward  Sheets  A.  L.  Weeks 

A  Young  Woman Lento  Fulwell 

A  Young  Man Samuel  L.  Breck 

Bear R.  A.  Cass 

Second  Production 

The  Chinese  Lantern,  by  Lawrence  Housman 

Olangtsi    C.  E.  Hilton 

Mrs.  Olangtsi Maude  Haass 

Yunglangtsi A.  L.  Weeks 

Hiti-Titi    Harry  Elliott 

Han-Kin   George  B.  Wehner 

Tee-Pee  R.  A.  Cass 

New-Lyn  H.  Clyde  Vamey 

Nau-Tee    Vincent  Bernard 

Josi-Mosi    Winniett  Wright 

Cosi-Mosi    Walter  Boynton 

Tikipu Don  Anchors 

Mee-Mee   Frances  Loughton 

Wiowani    Carl  Guske 

Third  Production:  jour  one-act  plays 

I,     Helena's  Husband,  by  Philip  Moeller 

Helena Doris  Dretzka 

Tsumu Mabel  Woodward 

Menelaus Edgar  W.  Bowen 

243 


Appendix 


Analytikos A.  L.  Weeks 

Paris    Gerald  S.  Patton 

II.  Trifles,  by  Susan  Glaspell 

George  Henderson   W.  V.  McKee 

Henry  Peters Winniett  Wright 

Lewis  Hale L.  W.  Porter 

Mrs.  Peters .|Bertha  Barney 

Mrs.  Hale Helen  B.  Mitchel 

III.  The  Glittering  Gate,  by  Lord  Dunsany 

Jim    A.  L.  Weeks 

Bill    Sam  Hume 

IV.  The  Lost  SUk  Hat,  by  Lord  Dunsany 

The  Caller   John  H.  Townley 

The  Labourer A.  L.  Weeks 

The  Clerk Gerald  S.  Patton 

The  Poet Sam  Hume 

The  Policeman Winniett  Wright 

Fourth  Production:  four  one-act  plays 

I.  Lonesomelike,  by  Harold  Brighouse 

Sarah  Ormerod .Blanche  Barney 

Emma  Brierley Phyllis  P.  Elton 

Sam  Horrocks Sam  Hume 

The  Rev.  Frank  Alleyne Gerald  S.  Patton 

II.  The  Intruder,  by  Maurice  Maeterlinck 

The  Grandfather  Carl  Guske 

The  Father Winniett  Wright 

The  Uncle Marshall  Pease 

Ursula   Dora  Clarke 

244 


Appendix 

Gertrude    Dorothy  Earle 

Genevieve    Zoe  Shippen 

The  Sister  of  Charity Roxane  Pierson 

The  Maid Isobel  Hurst 

III.  The  Last  Man  In,  by  W.  B.  Maxwell 

Mrs.  Judd Pauletta  Keena  Page 

Mr.  Judd Gerald  S.  Patton 

Mr.  Billett ^A.  L.  Weeks 

A  Customer Winniett  Wright 

The  Doctor Charles  W.  McGannon 

The  Last  Man  In .)Sam  Hume 

IV.  Suppressed  Desires,   by    George   Cram   Cook   and 

Susan  Glaspell 

Henrietta  Brevirster Gertrude  Kay 

Mabel    Doris  Dretzka 

Stephen  Brewster W.  V.  McKee 

Fifth  Production:  three  one-act  plays 

I.  The  Constant  Lover,  by  St.  John  Hankin 

Cecil  Harburton Eric  T.  Clarke 

Evelyn  Rivers Dora  Clarke 

II.  The  Romance  of  the  Rose:  a  Pantomime;  Scenario 

by  Sam  Hume,  Music  by  Timothy  M.  Spelman, 

2nd 

The  Nurse Helen  B.  Mitchel 

The  Girl Marjory  Steams 

The  Villain Carl  Guske 

The  Father Charles  E.  Hilton 

The  Troubadour George  McMahon 

The  Priest Clyde  Vamey 

245 


Appendix 


Harlequin   Theodore  J.  Smith 

First  Dancer Albert  Stewart 

Second  Dancer  Albert  Siewert 

Third  Dancer Floyd  English 

Fourth  Dancer  John  Weiss 

III.     Doctor  in  Spite  of  Himself,  by  Moliere;  Translated 
by  Curtis  Hidden  Page 

Sganarelle   , A.  L,  Weeks 

Martine    Rebecca  Clarke 

Squire  Robert ..Marshall  Pease 

Valere    Charles  E.  Hilton 

Lucas Gerald  S.  Patton 

Geronte    Winniett  Wright 

Jaqueline    Irena  Schnelker 

Lucinde  Phyllis  P.  Elton 

Leandre  George  McMahon 


246 


INDEX 


Abbey  Theatre,  40,  48,  140,  160 
Acting  and  actors,  96 
Acting,    effect    of    commercial- 
ization upon,   24,   122 
Actor's    place    in    art    theatre, 

122 
Adapta;ble     settings,     Sam 

Hume's,  165 
Advertising,  209 
Amateur  and  professional,   115 
Ames,  Winthrop,  52,  53,  68,  71, 

113,  219 
Anglin,  Margaret,  136 
Antoine,  32,  33 
Appia,  Adolphe,  39,  60,  86,  147 
Architecture,    Theatre,    28,    217 
Artist-Director,  37,  59,  74,  196 
Artists'  Guild  Theatre,  195,  219 
Arts   and    Crafts   Theatre,    19, 
54,  74,  89,  115,  126,  141,  150, 
165,   179,   182,   193,  195,  202, 
206,  213,  219,  230 

Barker,  Granville,  35,  139 
Bamsdall,  Aline,   197 
Belasco,  David,   146 
Bernhardt,  Sarah,   101 
Bragdon,  Claude,  65,   158 
Brieux,   139 
Browne,    Maurice,    65,    74,    92, 

107,   120,   130,   224 
Buildings  and  equipment,  217 
Business  management,  68,  188 

Carter,  Huntly,  45,  78,  105 


Chicago  Little  Theatre,  19,  54, 
57,    74,    119,    130,    136,    141, 
150,   159,   193,  213,  219,  230 
Civic   drama,   70,    177 
Comedie  Frangaise,  135 
Commercial  theatre,   13,  21,  71 
Conmnmity  theatre,   177 
Copeau,   Jacques,  41,  51 
Craig,   Gordon,   32,  35,   36,   49, 
61,   65,   74,   86,   88,   147,   160 

Dalcroze  method,   105 

D'Anmmzio,  138 

Deutsches   Theatre,  40,  46,   74, 

104,  112 
Dickinson,  Thomas  H.,  13 
Drama  League,  175,  185 
Dreiser,  Theodore,   143 
Drew,  John,  110 
Dunsany,  19,  59,  102,  127,  128, 

138,   187 

"Easiest  Way,  The,"  142 
Eaton,     Walter     Prichard,     29, 

100 
Endowment,  212 
Euripides,  59,  130 
Experimental  theatre,  66 

Free   Folk  Stage,   Berlin,   180 
Freeman,  Helen,  221 
Freie  Buhne,  33,  34 
Fuchs,  Georg,  32,  86 

Galsworthy,  John,  35,  137 

247 


Index 


Geddes,  Norman-Bel,  150,  157, 

159,  198 

Gibson,  Wilfrid  Wilson,  131 
Glaspell,  Susan,   129,   143 
Goethe,  86 

Goodman,  Edward,  131 
Goodman,      Kenneth      Sawyer, 

129 
"Great  Divide,  The,"  142 
Grein,  J,  T.,  34 

Hankin,  St.  John,  129,  131 
Hapgood,  Norman,  29 
Hauptmann,  59,  138 
Head,  Cloyd,  65,  143 
Heron,  Herbert,   197 
Horniman,  Miss  A.  E.  F.,  50, 

213 
Housman,  Lawrence,  127 
Hull  House  Theatre,  184 
Hume,   Sam,    74,   87,    115,   126, 

129,  147,   150,   157,  165,  182, 

198,  208,  224 

Ibsen,  59,  131,  137 
Independent  Theatre,  34 
Instu-gent  movement,   14 
Intimacy,  the  ideal  of,  68 
Irish  Players,  46,  106,  108,  121, 

160,  212 
Irving,  Henry,  188 

Johnson,    Raymond,    147,    150, 

158 
Jones,  Robert  Edmond,  27,  147, 

150 

Kennedy,  Charles  Rann,  186 
Kenyon,  Charles,  142 

Lighting,  157 

Little  Theatre,  New  York,  53, 
71,  219 

248 


Little  Theatre,   San   Francisco, 

193 
Little    Theatre    movement,    17, 

29 
Littmann,  Max,  219,  221 
Los     Angeles     Little     Theatre, 

150,  159,  197 

Macgowan,  Kenneth,  65 

MacKaye,  Percy,  70,  142,  177 

McEwen,  Katherine,   156,   198 

Maeterlinck,  59,   128,   138 

Marks,  Josephine  Peabody,  142 

Martyn,  Edward,  49 

Masefield,  John,  59 

Moliere,  129 

Moody,   William  Vaughan,   186 

Moore,  George,  49 

Moscow    Art    Theatre,    40,    41, 

67,    74,    104,    121,    155,    160, 

191,  212 
Munich    Art   Theatre,    40,    44, 

112 
Murray,  Gilbert,  131 

Native  drama,  139 
Naturalistic  drama,   33 
Neighbourhood  Playhouse,  New 

York,    54,     186,    213,    219 
New  Theatre,  52,  213 
Newspaper  criticism,  210 
Nielsen,  Kay,  156 
Nine  O'CIock  Theatre,  221 

Ordynski,  Richard,  197 
Organization  and  Management, 
188 

Pichel,  Irving,   197 
"Pierrot  the  Prodigal,"  186 
Pittsburgh     Theatre      Associa- 
tion, 201 


Index 


Players'  Club,  San  Francisco, 
193 

Players'  Workshop,  24,  193 

Playv/riting,  Effects  of  com- 
mercialization   upon,    23 

Poel,  William,   136 

"Poor  Little  Rich  Girl,  The," 
142 

Portmanteau  Players,  54,  66, 
70,  97,  115 

Prairie  Playhouse,  54,  185 

Provincetown  Players,  24,  54, 
73,   140 

Realistic  drama,  33,  35,  137 
Regisseur,  The  German,  86 
Reinhardt,  Max,  47,  63,  70,  74, 

82,  154 
Repertory  organization,  143 
Repertory  theatres  in  England, 

51 
Rouchd,  Jacques,  41,  51 

Schnitzler,  Arthur,  131,  137 

Screen  settings,  Gordon  Craig's, 
160 

Shakespeare,  136 

Shaw,  Bernard,  35,  59,  131,  137, 
139 

Stagecraft,  The  new,  27,  144 

Staging,  effects  of  commercial- 
ization upon,  26 

Stanislavsky,  74,  86 

Star  system,  25,  108 


Starke,  Ottomar,  86 
Stock  theatres,  72 
Strindberg,  131 
Stylization,  64,  154 
Subscription  systems,   180 
Syndicate,  the  theatre,  21 
Synge,  J.  M.,  131,  138,  140 
Synthetic  ideal,  56 

Thidtre  Antoine,    33 
Theatre  de  VCEuvre,  41 
Theatre  des  Arts,  41 
Theatre  du    Vieux    Colotnbier, 

41,  51 
ThSdtre  Libre,  33 
Theatre  Libre  movement,   33 
Thomas,  Augustus,  142 
Tolstoy,  139 

Urban,  Joseph,  27,  65,  151,  157, 
158,  168,  224 

Wagner,  86 

Washington  Square  Players,  17, 

54,  57,  73,  97,  114,  115,  121, 

141,  179,  186,  230 
Wilde,  Oscar,   131 
Wisconsin  Players,   54,  67 

Yeats,   William  Butler,   49,   65, 

102,  108,  131,  138,  140,  162 
"Yellow  Jacket,  The,"  142,  186 
Ypsilanti  Players,    184 


249 


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